Catch The Fall
by PoetTraveler
Summary: In the fallout of an undercover mission gone wrong, Don finds out that family can find you no matter where you end up...
1. Another day in Pasadena

The sun was shining, a perfect cliche of a day. People gathered under the warm California rays, the rich flowers perfumed the air, palm trees gorgeously green. _A perfect day for baseball... Batter up, Donnie... _Charlie adjusted his sunglasses, briefly closed his eyes, trying to block out the hangover, remenant from a night out with Don's teammates. He felt his father bump his arm, the two men uncharacteristically held hands. A sudden breeze lifted his curls, Charlie clamped his other hand down, trying to keep his yarmulke in place.

He could feel Amita shake against his chest. She reached in his coat pocket, feeling for more tissues. Her hair felt soft and sweet against his face. Any other time, he would be thanking his lucky stars to have her in his arms.

The cantor's voice raised and fell in a haunting rhythm. "Baruch atah Hashem Elokeinu melech haolam, dayan ha'emet," _Blessed are you, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, the true Judge_. The words were so achingly familiar... Charlie had never wanted to hear them again. Not after losing his mother...

Larry, freshly back from space, stood silently besides Megan Reeves. Just earlier that week, Don had teased him... _Still got space legs Fleinhardt? _David Sinclair and Colby Granger stood on either side of the couple. _Never thought that Granger or Sinclair knew where to find yarmulkes... Never knew a bald man could keep one on his head..._ They silently watched as a folded flag was presented to Alan. He took the flag, his breathing hitched. Alan thanked the young officer, then sat back heavily in the silver folding chair.

The quiet was shattered with the twenty one gun salute. Each crack caused a chill to run down Charlie's spine, each time Megan's sobs grew louder. A tear slid down his cheek. _You will not cry, Eppes, you will not cry..._ Alan's hand sought out his once again and gripped it tighter, _as if one pain could substitute another..._

The cantor said his last "omain" and walked over to Alan and Charlie, gripping both in a hug. "Ha-Makom yenahem etkhem b'tokh sha ar aveilei Tzion vYerushalayim"-_may the Omnipresent comfort you among all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem_, he whispered fiercely in their ears.

Charlie found the contrast of the FBI agents and the Hebraic words strange. Any other time he would have thought it funny. He felt Colby lead him to a car, who's he wasn't sure. David lead Alan. Both took one last look, one headstone painfully familiar, accompanied by another, frustratingly brand new. _God, Don, this wasn't the way it was suppose to go... You weren't suppose to leave this way..._

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

The traditional period of shiva lasts seven days. It was day three and already there was more food in the kitchen than Charlie knew what to do with. Part of it was from people who would stop by, a deli tray from one of Charlie's students, casseroles from the neighbors, several bottles of scotch from law enforcement officers. A lot of it was from Alan, trying to keep busy, trying to cope with their loss. _Don, can you really be gone?_

Things had been going so well lately. Don had been making an effort to not work so much, spend more time with his brother and his father after the urgings of his shrink. He had met a girl, an ER nurse, Emily something or other. Don wouldn't say where he met her. _Or that he even HAD met her... _Charlie suspected it coincided with a suspicious limp Don had five or six months back. Charlie wouldn't have even known had not Megan asked him who was occupying all his brother's free time. Charlie had finally cornered Don two weeks ago, the latter guiltily confessing that there was someone that he wanted them to meet. All four of them were going to meet for dinner..._ Was that really suppose to be tonight?_

He looked at the calander by the kitchen phone. There in Don's familiar scrawl was reservations for a little italian place down in Venice. Emily lived in Venice, down by the boardwalk, not too far from the ballarina clown statue. _You know the one Chuck, that freaky nightmare thing... _That's where Don had been when the _incident_ happened. That's what David said when he had come to the house to break the news.

There was an explosion he said. Don and Emily were at the pier, they rented a boat and it blew up. _There were no survivors..._ Charlie let a strangled laugh at the line. He had heard it in a movie once, a movie he had seen with Don, back when Don was still in junior high school during a brief moment when they had gotten along. Don had always reminded Charlie of the Dread Pirate Roberts, invincible and superhuman. Able to beat villians of incredible strength and surprising intellect and still come out on top.

David said there had been a contract taken out on Don. He had gone undercover in an arms, drug, and child porn case. His testimony was key to locking away several of the key players and securing the death penalty for the second in command. Protective custody had hid him away during and several weeks after the trial, but then Don came back, said everything was fine, nothing to worry about.

Someone had cleared Don's desk at the FBI, gave Alan and Charlie his personal things. There were several photos of the three of them together, golfing, hiking, in the garage. The other was of him and Emily. _She's pretty Don. I wish you would have introduced us... _They were standing in the ocean, Don in khakis cargo shorts and a navy polo, Stockton Rangers cap backwards, his arm wrapped around a short, thin girl with a wide smile and long red hair that easily fell midway down her back. Her green skirt wrapped around both their legs in the wind. _You both look so happy..._

Digging through the box, Alan and Charlie found several commendations, one from his fugitive recovery days and Albuquerque... _Charlie, its Albuquerque, not Albaturkey, bro..._ And another from LA. Both men were surprised, both feeling guilty that Don never shared his awards with them. The other thing that surprised Charlie was Don had a copy of one of the books he had written. It was rumpled and dirty, _must have taken it with him on stake-outs..._ The pages were dog-eared and there were a few passages underlined, with notes scrawled next to them. Charlie didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the idea of his big brother pondering the implications of the Eppes Convergence.

The kitchen was too cluttered _not the right type of clutter..._ He wandered out to the garage. _Give it up Chuckles and call it what it really is, your fortress of solitude... _Charlie looked at his collection of chalkboards, no P vs NP this time around. He felt no draw to work on his Congnitive Emergence Theory either. He heard a shuffle and a cough behind him. An arm snaked around his shoulder.

"Amita..." He started.

She didn't say anything. Just looked at the chalkboards, then turned around and hugged him tightly. They both cried together.


	2. He's just graceful that way

A/N Thank you all for the kind words... If you review it, more will come...

I still don't own them... Maybe next year for Christmas?

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Six Months Before...

Don and his team had gone on a drug bust. A tip came in on a series of meth labs, corroborating with their on-going investigation. Don, Megan and two other teams had coordinated efforts to shut them down simutaneously. It was text book, or nearly so. Don and Colby had been pursuing a suspect down a dead end alley. The man, frantic to get away, kicked a trash can over and rolled towards the agents. Both Don and the garbage had gained to much momentum to slow down or change course.

Colby pinned the suspect. Trash can pinned the SAC.

Don had almost successfully waved off the paramedics, until he tried to walk away. "No, Agent Eppes, you really need to get an x-ray on that ankle. It could be broken."

Colby rubbed his face in a vain effort to keep from chuckling. His boss looked like a kicked puppy sitting in the back of the ambulance, face in hands, wincing as the paramedic touched his foot. "Don't worry, Don. We all know this is just a ploy to get out of paperwork." He just shook his head at Colby.

"Look you don't have to ride along, I'll be fine." Don pinched his nose, could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding weirdly out of sync with the throb in his leg.

Colby laughed, "Look man, it's either me, or I can call Charlie and your Dad."

Don waved him in the ambulance with a sigh.

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

They had to wait. And wait. And wait some more. Every few minutes a doctor or a nurse would run by, brushing the curtains that gave Don semi-privacy. Shouted orders were tossed around, intermingled with an occasional baby's scream. There was an old football game on ESPN Classic and the two men spent most the time trying to call what plays were coming next. "Dude, I'm telling you, I've seen this game. The Packers run it and then, interception."

The curtain pulled back and a nurse came in, glanced up at the television and then checked the swelling on Don's ankle. "I hate to break it to you boys, but Brett throws a touchdown." She winked at Don, "I'm Emily Knapp. I'll be your RN today. The powers that be told me you wretched your ankle." She clicked the top of her pen rapidly, _Open, close, open, close..._ "Tell me Agent Eppes, are you able to rotate it at all?"

Don tried and then winced. His attention half falling back on the television screen. Sure enough, the commercial ended and Number Four threw dead on for six points. "No way, how'd you do that?" Colby looked astounded.

"Ah, ow, ow..." Don gasped as Emily gently proded the swollen flesh. She smiled in apology. "I'm sorry, Agent." She picked up a clip board and made some notations. "The doctor will be in a while but first we're going to take an x-ray. Normally the doctor would order that after seeing you but we've been really busy today..."

Don instinctively recognized the tiredness in the young nurse's eyes. He looked like that after a rough case. His father told him so. Constantly. Hell, he probably looked like that now. She was pretty he thought. Her hair was in a long thick braid, contrasted with light pink scrubs. _If Sandra Bullock had red hair..._

"Hey, I trust anyone who knows how to call a magic play like that." She blushed at his megawatt grin.

"The rad tech will be here in a bit, but here's some ibuprofen for the pain." Emily said, handing him a dixie cup of water to wash them down. Don nodded in thanks.

Both men's eyes followed her as she walked out of the curtained area. Colby started to chuckle, "Charming the ladies Don. You are so lucky you're Dad isn't here now. I think he'd be putting in an order for grandchildren..."

Don wadded up the paper cup and tossed it at his junior agent, "Watch it there Granger. I'm still the boss. You don't want to be sharing desk duty with me while I'm off my feet, do ya?"

Colby waved his hands in surrender as a rad tech walked in to whisk Don off to X-Ray.

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

"Your ankle isn't broken, Agent Eppes. It's a pretty serious sprain though. You've partially torn the ligament in your ankle. It's not a complete, but to prevent that from happening we're going to have you use a walking boot and crutches for the next couple of days for when you do need to get around."

"I'd like you to keep the boot off when you're resting and do those mobility exercises we went over. If the ankle is immobile too long, it'll lead to problems down the line." Doctor Stevens gave him a wry smile, "Try to stay off your feet, Agent. I want you to pay attention for any increase in swelling, worsening pain, or persisting symptoms. Please see your regular doctor for a follow-up." The older man handed Don a prescription. "If you don' t have any questions, I think Emily here can help you with the discharge papers and anything else you need."

Colby snickered at that comment, a dark stain crossed the nurse's face. "David just called. He's here to pick us up. I'll go find him..." Colby slipped out of the room.

She cleared her throat, regained her composure. "You've heard of the RICE treatment?" Don nodded his assent. "Good, 'cause that's what you're going to be doing for the next several days. Here's a few papers with some tips and an overview, just in case you forgot..." Emily grabbed a stool and sat in front of the injured ankle.

Don grinned, folded the papers and shoved them in his jacket pocket. "Hey, you never did tell me how you knew the outcome of the game."

She looked up from adjusting the velcro straps on the medical boot. "Is this too tight?" Don shook his head no. "Oh that. I grew up in Wisconsin. What can I say, Packer football is sacred. My grandpa and I use to watch the games together all the time. He'd record them and watch them in the off season right after he was done milking cows." Emily handed Don a clipboard. "Here are your discharge papers, just sign them and you can be on your way... It looked like your friend's in a hurry."

"Yeah, I guess he is," Don scrawled his name by the places she had marked with an X. "Tell me, how does a pretty Wisconsin farm girl like you end up in downtown LA ER like this?"

"You flirting with me, Agent?" She handed Don a set of crutches, "Once you've grown up around cornfields it's kind of nice to have palm trees to look at for a change." She shrugged her shoulders and stuck the pen behind her ear. "I'm guessing that you've had experience with these before?" She motioned to the crutches.

Don waved her off, "Yeah, I broke my leg a few years back. Baseball gone wrong. It was the longest two months of my life."

"Then I'd say you're definitively qualified..." She started making her way back towards the curtained opening, "I'll go find your friend then..."

"Wait," Emily looked back questioningly. "I was... I'm not sure... if this is against hospital policy..." _Real smooth Eppes, no wonder you haven't had a date in... Gosh, don't even want to think about how long its been._ "Would you like to grab dinner sometime?"

The blush was back. Her eyes dropped and Don started wondering if maybe somehow an injury to the ankle could somehow affect his brain and personal judgement. She looked up at him, appraising him carefully. _So this is how suspects feel in interrogation..._

"Well, I suppose since you waited till after you were officially discharged, you're technically not my patient anymore... Which would mean that hospital policy wouldn't even be an issue..." Emily broke into a wide grin, "Yes, Agent Eppes, I would love to have dinner with you."


	3. I'll be home for dinner

A/N - Thank you all for your reviews. I promise you that it will really start picking up in the next couple of chapters.

Six months ago...

It was late, that random time when you couldn't be sure if it was classified as super late or really early. The traffic was light and the company quiet. Don could see his reflection in the window, not really seeing himself, but allowing his mind to drift back to a pretty nurse at the ER.

"Did you want me to drop you off anywhere Don?" David steered the government issue vehicle out on the highway. Don sat shot-gun, a whispy smile crossing his face. The crutches were propped up between his legs, resting on his left shoulder.

"Lets just head back to HQ, I can take my ride from there." Colby exchanged a quick glance with David in the rearview mirror.

"You're okay to drive?"

Don rubbed his face, _escaped twenty questions with the family, just to land in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition..._ "Yeah... I haven't taken any strong drugs, so you guys don't have to worry about me crashing on the 10. It's my left ankle so I'm still good to drive." He looked at his teammates, "Plus, if I don't come in, think of all the extra paperwork you boys are going to get stuck with..."

"Sure, Don. Sounds like a plan to me..." David quickly interjected.

They rode in silence til David pulled into the FBI's parking garage. "Hey, guys..." Don trailed off, "Not a word of this to my dad or my brother? Got it?"

"You're going to hide a walking boot and crutches from them?" Colby was half serious, with a fair measure of sarcasm thrown in.

"I've hid a lot worse... So do I have your word? Or do I have to assign you to someplace fun like Mississippi or maybe border patrol?"

David bent his head over the steering wheel, stifling a laugh. Colby smirked, "Don't worry bossman. We'll protect you from the scary mathematician."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Three days later...

Alan sighed. Don had turned his phone off again and had been out of contact for three days now. He had asked Charlie what was going on. But all the mathematician could do was shrug his shoulders. "I know the case is closed Dad. That's at least what Megan told Larry."

"Well, it'd be nice to hear it from your brother." Alan closed his cell phone in frustration. "Three days is the longest that he hasn't talked to us since... Fugitive Recovery, I think."

"I know, Dad. I know." Charlie grabbed his books and satchel. When his father was upset, the whole house seemed to brood with him. "I'll be in the garage if you need me."

Alan waved him off as he headed up the stairs. Grabbing his soduku puzzle book, he sat down in the solarium. When he looked up he realized that the sun had set an hour ago, it was starting to get late. _Maybe its time I started supper..._

He sat up a little straighter in the sofa, a beam of light traced across the wall. Looking out the window, he saw a familiar SUV pull into the drive. _Well, I'll be. Christopher Robin returns to Pooh Corner..._ He watched Don open the car door, pulled himself stiffly from the vehicle. _He looks beat..._

Alan hurried down the stairs and down to the living room. He set himself down in his usual chair and waited. A key scraped at the lock, the door swung open and Don limped in the room. "Hey Dad," he said quietly.

_Oh, Donny, my boy... What happened to you this time? _Alan refrained himself from rushing over and dragging Don to the couch. "Where'd you disappear to?"

"I've been busy, wrapping up the case." Don limped over to the couch, propped his foot up.

Alan bit back a retort, held out an olive branch instead, "I was just going to start dinner. Spaghetti sound alright?"

Don's head had rolled back on the cushions, eyes closed, a ghost of a smile crossed his face, "Yeah Dad. That sounds great..."

Alan started to tip-toe away, but Don was already out for the count. Chuckling to himself, Alan pushed the kitchen door open, nearly colliding with his other son.

"I thought I heard..."

"Shush, Charlie. Yes, Don's here, asleep on the sofa. Leave him alone til dinner." Alan pulled several pots and pans out of the cupboards. "Charlie, was Don injured in the raid?"

Charlie frowned, "I hadn't heard anything. Why?"

"He was limping when he came in. There was a scrape on his cheek."

"Why doesn't he ever tell us?" Charlie slammed a fist on the counter.

Alan rubbed his face. "I think your reaction could be one reason," he said dryly. "Listen Charlie, don't bother him about this. It's just going to make him mad. Look, I probably shouldn't have even said anything to you."

"It just scares me that if he can't share the little things, what will he do when something goes really wrong?"

"We'll catch him, Charlie. That's what families do..."


	4. Down by the Boardwalk

A/N - Thank you all for your continued reviews. I appreciate them so much!

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

A Week Before...

The sun was starting to sink into the ocean, setting the water on fire. The skate dancing plaza was full and floodlights just flickered on the volleyball courts, keeping the games alive. Surfers started to come in off the breakwater, dragging boards behind. The bars and restaurants were starting to pick up business. Venice Beach was coming to life.

Emily was looking towards the breakers rolling in. The waiter brought out her grilled chicken salad, his london broil and baked potato. The restaurant they ended up at had a deck overlooking the beach. "A franc for your thoughts?" Don inquired. He filled his glass with the Chianti, motioned to her glass and at her slight nod, refilled hers as well.

The question came from _Casablanca_. Ingrid Bergman asked Humphrey Bogart the same thing on the day that Paris fell to the Germans. _You wore blue and the Germans wore gray._ Don remembered Emily wearing lavender the night they watched it together for the first time. They grilled shish-kabobs on her back porch, overlooking the quiet canal where she lived. They had curled up on her couch and visited Rick's Cafe. Don thought it better than pizza in a laundromat.

"Funny, in America they'd only be worth a penny..." Her bare shoulders glowed in the candle light, her fingers delicately teased his across the table. "I missed you, G-Man. I was starting to think I needed to get a cat to keep me company."

"You hate cats..." Don fingered his wine glass, "The case is over and done now. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not taking any undercover assignments if I can help it." He noticed her green and white halter dress was new, admired the birthmark it revealed. _You know you've got it bad Eppes when you have to talk to her every day, when you want to see her every day, when you know her wardrobe down to the last..._

"Honey, I don't want you to be giving up up all undercover jobs..." Don found his face warm at her flirting, glad the night hid most of it. They laughed, the night air intoxicating and the wine added a bit of romance.

Emily's ankle nudged his own, "Remember what we were talking about before you left?"

Don's face crinkled in thought. They had been discussing many things before he left. "You're going to go ahead with the blue paint for the living room?"

She tossed her bread stick at him. "You're a dork, you know that?"

"Ah, you love me..." He caught the bread stick mid-air, took a bite, "And my wicked baseball skills..." He swallowed, "Can't deny that Emmy.."

"Wouldn't want to G-Man..." Don could feel bare toes running up and down his jeans. "But what I was actually referring to was..."

"My family," he interrupted.

She grinned, "You read my mind..."

"What kind of investigator would I be if I couldn't..."

A breeze teased her hair, threw flickering light across the green in her eyes, "Can you tell me what I'm thinking now...?"

Don paid for the dinners, Emily left a tip. The couple walked down the wooden steps away from the restaurant balcony towards the ocean's edge. He paused, waited for her as she slipped off her flip flops. The sand was deep, granules worked their way to his socks. Gently grabbing her forearm, Don slipped his footwear off and rolled his jeans up.

They walked in silence for a while, the waves playing a sort of odd counterpoint to the sounds of people laughing and dancing. Don threw his right arm around Emily's shoulders, running his fingers teasingly down her ribs.

"Don! You've got to stop tickling me..." Emily squealed and started running down the beach. Don laughed and took off after her. He overtook her, and they landed, smiling in the sand. Stars started to poke their heads out, one by one. Don stared up at them, thankful the case was over, thankful that he was here on the beach, thankful for the beautiful woman laying next to him.

Her soft sigh melted into the night, Don found her hand and kissed it gently. "I was thinking, we could meet up with my dad and brother at Gino's..."

She rolled over on her side, propping her head up with her hand. "Sounds like a plan to me..." She flicked a bit of dried seaweed from his foot. "So is there any special voodoo or mathspeak I need to learn before meeting your brother?"

"Naw... But just don't be surprised if my Dad pulls out the baby pictures or talks about weddings or grandchildren..."

"You don't want him scaring me away, huh?" Don brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "Don't worry. I figure I'll tell him that I want at least eight, maybe an even dozen..."

"He'll be over the moon... You'll want to be careful though, he may propose to you himself..."

She leaned in a little closer, "I'd have to turn him down, I don't think my boyfriend would like it if I married his father..."

He gently ran his hand through her hair, down her cheek. "That would make the holidays a little awkward..."

"Shut up and kiss me, G-Man..."

Don's first kiss had been in fifth grade, before baseball practice behind the slides at the school's playground. Her name was Sarah Grable and she always wore pigtails. She tasted like chocolate pudding and peanut butter. He asked her to be his girlfriend and then didn't speak to her the rest of the year. He was glad he improved on his relational skills since then. He was glad Emily tasted like strawberries... Yeah, champagne and strawberries...

They broke apart, "Hey I got a surprise for you." Don held out his hand and helped Emily up.

"What, you mean you have something better than just now?" He lead them back down the beach, towards the pier. They walked to the middle of the pier, past fishermen and other couples. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

Emily looked around, confused at first, then looked toward where he was pointing. "I'll go down first." Don swung his leg over to a rung on a wooden ladder going down the side of the pier. Emily looked over the edge, a motor boat below, waves slapping against its sides. She grinned and shook her head, "Don, you would have me climbing down in a dress wouldn't you?"

He looked back up to her, "No, that was just a happy coincidence..." She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't worry, I promise to not look. Cross my heart, hope to die..."

Don told her it belonged to a friend of his who owned a boat rental service, set it up to rent it a couple of weeks ago. _Just for this occasion..._ He steered it out from the pier, out towards open water. Emily snuggled under his arm. "This is perfect, Don." Just then, the motor started to putter and died. "I guess maybe I spoke too soon..."

"That's so weird, Eddie told me he just took it in for a tune up..." Don turned the key over, getting fumes. He muttered something about probabilities and pulled up a hatch, revealing the engine. _Now that's sort of strange..._ There was a steady blinking red light. He traced the wires back, _bad, bad, oh so very bad..._ "Emmy, grab the life jackets. Now."

There was something in Don's tone that told her not to argue. She pulled the two jackets out of bench seat, threw one at Don, slid the other on herself.

"What..." Before she could finish that thought, Don grabbed her, throwing both of them over the side. Emily gasped in shock, but followed his powerful strokes. They swam maybe ten yards when there was an incredible explosion. A fireball engulfed the harbor.


	5. Catch A Wave

A/N - You guys have been so kind with your reviews... I'm so glad you like it!

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

An intense heat like Don had never known burned at his skin, the fire clawing the oxygen out of the air, leaving him breathless. There was something on his head, trying to split his skull open. Don wondered if Larry felt the heat of the rockets when he launched into space. Maybe Don had been launched. Yeah, someone strapped him to an atlas rocket and tried to send him to the stratosphere. Now he was floating in space, lost and alone like Major Tom. _Then why was he so wet?_

The floodlights from the volleyball court back on the beach caught his attention. Drew his mind back to reality. _There was an explosion, Eddie's boat... Emily! Where's Emily! _He flung himself around, looking for Emily. Before the harbor had been quiet, he hadn't even seen any other boats out. Now debris and fire was raining from the sky. It was some sort of Faustian nightmare. Or Dante's Inferno. The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. He caught sight of... _is that seaweed? Crap, no it's Emmy..._

He swam over to her, batting away random objects. Don didn't know why but Andre the Giant kept repeating, "I can only doggy paddle" over and over, a broken record in his head. And now it looked like they were caught in inky-black waters steadily nearing the cliffs of dispair. Emily was gasping for air, Don could see panic in her eyes. "Emmy!" He hollered over the rushing in his ears. "Emmy! Over here!" _That caught her attention..._ Emily started to swim towards him.

Don could feel something bumping into his back. _A hippopotomic landmass of a giant? A drunken Spaniard? A local fisherman taking a pleasure cruise through eel infested waters? ...Focus, Eppes, you can think about movies later... Yeah, we'll watch Princess Bride, order pizza and have a great laugh when we get out of this mess... _He reached his arm towards the object; It was part of the boat. _Or at least that's what it could have been the boat... In a former life..._ Carefully turning around, he grabbed her wrist, connected her to the fiberglass panel.

The both of them clung to it, looking like refugees that they were. "What... what in the hell... was that, Don?" Emily didn't look good. Her words were slurring and there was blood on her face. Don had to admit he wasn't feeling a hundred percent either. His head was pounding. He tried to wipe water out of his eyes, hand coming away bloody. Charlie's voice started playing in his head, "the probabilities of both of you sustaining concussions in this accident..." _Accident my ass. This was planned... Damn you, Merrick, I'm never going undercover ever again..._

"Em, you got to stay with me here. You got to stay awake..." Two Emilys glared back at him. _That can't be right... _He shook his head and the two melded back into one. Don sighed to himself. _Yeah, probably don't need to lecture the registered nurse who works in an emergency room on the importance of staying awake..._

"I think I need to worry more about you..." Her facial expression morphed to worry, "Don, how bad..."

"Can you get rid of the bear that's trying... to chew my head off?" _Damn, what... Got to stay awake, Eppes. The bad guys are after you again..._

"No bear, G-Man." Emily's voice grew sharp, "Don... Don! Can you help me swim to the pier. You've got to get me to the pier!" It was like a fog was lifted and Don's senses sharpened, drawing him back to the reality of their dire straights. Saving people was what he did. And this wasn't just people, this was him, this was Emily. His Emily. _When did I start thinking of her like that?_

Though the it was exquisitly painful, they used the fiberglass hull as a sort of paddle board, like beginner swimmers use... If that didn't take Don back in the day. He had taught Charlie to swim. His mother asked him too. So he casually pushed Charlie in and threw a foam board in after him. He remembered wondering if all of Charlie's genius would cause him to sink. Fortunately the six year old was a whiz at physics... Floated, no problem, no foul, no harm done...

"This... this reminds me of a movie, Don." A wave slapped them both in the face. Emmy sputtered. "Remember Roman Holiday? Audrey... Audrey Hepburn and that guy..."

Don knew what she was doing, trying to keep them both focused, _keep them both awake, alive_. The pier loomed steadily closer. The pier had a first aid station, had telephones and people. Maybe David Hasselhoff and Yasmine Bleeth would run out to the water and save them like on Baywatch. There were lots of people... He was afraid of the crowds, didn't know who would be waiting for them. "Atticus Finch... right?"

Another wave, another gasp, "Yeah... Gregory... Peck. There's a fight... on a boat. They jump in the... Tiber to get away..." Emily started to cough, almost choking. Don kept one hand on her life vest, the other on the fiberglass. "...they had to... get away from the police..."

They started kicking again, "Em, we can't go to the crowds... I think that was... intentional..."

"...From your undercover... case?"

"Think so..."

The currents pushed them further south, skirting the pier and most of the crowds, towards a more residential area. Large beach houses loomed in the distance. Movie stars and pop stars lived there... They were drifting. Don thought maybe they'd float across the ocean to Hawaii. Maybe they'd float to the Copacabana and see Lola that showgirl, who had feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there. _Focus, Eppes, focus... You're not out of the woods yet... I wish I was in the woods... You can't drown in the woods... Over the river and through the woods... _Don knew his thoughts were becoming more eratic, more random. His vision was blurry and he thought that maybe Emily was talking to him. But he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything.

He felt fingers pry at his grip on the panel. "Don, let go, we're almost to shore..." _Funny, isn't Hawaii farther away... _Letting go of the fiberglass panel, the waves pushed them towards land. Tumbling, confused and disoriented, Don struggled to keep his hand in hers and they fought for the surface. Fought to get to shore.


	6. Lean On Me

A/N - In the immortal words of Sally Fields, "I can't deny the fact you like me! You like me!

Thank you so much again!

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In the Little Mermaid, the original Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale and not the Walt Disney movie, the mermaid rescues a handsome prince from drowning in the sea. She falls in love with him and trades her enchanting voice for legs that when she comes up out of the water, each footstep she takes is painful, like walking on knives. But he loves to watch her dance, so she does, each move more painful than the last. She dances for him and for an eternal soul, which mermaids do not have. Her prince marries another so she throws herself into the sea and instead of melting into foam, she turns into a spirit of the air. Her sacrificial love gives her a chance to earn a soul.

Emily had her prince, an eternal soul, a voice... So why did she have to walk on knives? "I think my bruises have bruises," she groaned. Just a couple of hours ago, they had been laying on another beach a couple of miles upshore. The mood had drastically changed since then. Using the other as a human crutch, Don and Emily dragged themselves from the water, walked a few paces and dropped in the sand. "If your assassin friend wants... to come back and finish the job, I'd be okay with it... what with the way I'm feeling..."

"I thought..." _God, my head..._ "We're having... twelve kids, remember...?"

Emily's laugh morphed into a cough. "We're gonna need more life jackets..."

Don could feel a shaky had on his face. "Don, are you okay?" Her voice sounded worried, hesistant. "We've gotta get out of here..."

He could feel himself fading out,. The brief adrenaline rush from the tumble on-shore left him drained. A breeze started dancing through his hair, ruffling his shirt. If he had matches, maybe they could start a fire. He loved having bonfires on the beach. When he was a college freshman, Don and his dad spent his spring break camping. Charlie and Margaret were at Princeton, Don and Alan were on the beach. Maybe he and Emily could go camping. They could spend a whole week, just the two of them.

There was a slap on his face. "Don, there's a gas station, not far from here. Telephone booth." There were stars dancing in his field of view.

How long had he been out, if she had time to find a phone... "Emmy... you look pretty with stars in... your hair..." Hands were lifting him upwards. He tried to help. He really did. _Just so damn uncoordinated..._ The ocean did a flip flop and then righted itself.

"I know I do G-Man..." His arm was around her shoulder. "Okay, We got to get you standing up..." The worried tone was back, "We're gonna take a nice little walk and then you're going to give me a telephone number to call..." She grunted under his weight, "There's gotta be some sort of Hide-Us-From-Assassins 'R Us... Right?"

"Yeah..." Don mumbled. "Gotta talk... to..." _Oh, God my head... _"Talk... to US... Marshalls..."

The dunes were high and the sea grass razor blade sharp. The going was slow. Don wished Charlie could give him a physics lesson now. Something with mass, acceleration and angles of incline. There had to be some sort of rule or a law about how a one hundred twenty pound woman with a head injury should not be able to half-carry a one hundred eighty pound man with an even worse head injury, up-hill and barefoot. Don watched Emily's blurry feet. _Funny, I don't remember her toenail polish being red before..._

A BP station sign glowed green with promise. Don's thoughts started to gather, gain coherancy. His watch had stopped, _maybe the warrenty is still good..._ But he figured it was after midnight, the gas station was closed. He could make out the phone booth at the side of the cinderblock building, hidden behind the outdoor ice chest. Emily stumbled on the curb and he caught her, kept them both from going down. "Thanks..."

He leaned against the building and the freezer, it's coolness feeling really good against his singed skin. Emily fumbled with the phone, her hands shaking so violently... _Adrenal response. Empty lung technique... Charlie had that after firing the rifle..._ "Who do I call, Don..." _Her voice is shaking as bad as her hands are..._ "Tom... Call Tom Abrahams... Number's in my... wallet..."

Her hands dug through his back pocket for his wallet, his front pocket for spare change, "This... isn't the time... for that... Knapp..."

Her laugh bordered on the hysterical. "I don't love you for your sense of humor Don..."

"Love me... for my mind...?"

"You wish... I love you 'cause you're so pretty... Eye candy..." She was peeling pictures and slips of paper apart, trying to find the right one. "US Marshall Tom Abrahams... Right, Don?"

"That's it..." He could feel his strength waver, could feel himself sliding down the wall. Emily's voice melded in with the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. The stars were back and they were dancing in lines across his vision. But then the show was over and someone closed the curtains. The theatre went dark.


	7. Saturday night and I ain't got Nobody

A/N - Thank you all for your continued reviews. It's nice to hear you like it!

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A quick glance at her wrist told her it was a little past midnight. _Sorry, Larry... Maybe tomorrow? _She walked over to the LAPD - Venice Beach Sergeant in charge. "Agent Reeves, FBI"

"Agent," The officer shook her hand, "Sergeant Williams. Thanks for coming out..."

"What have we got here?" Megan Reeves was mad. Her boyfriend has just come back from outer space and instead of sharing a late night dinner of pasta primavera and an incredibly expensive bottle of wine, she was out at a crime scene. _In the middle of the freakin' night!_

"A motor boat exploded in the middle of the harbor. Suspected foul play."

Megan caught sight of David Sinclair sauntering up to them. "Thank you, Sergeant. I'll take it from here." She walked swiftly over to her teammate.

David filled her in as they made their way along the Venice boardwalk. Two coast guard boats were out in the harbor, searchlights pierced the night sky. It reminded David of the Bat signal. _Suppose that makes me Batman... Do you think that would make Colby, Robin? _ The mental image of his partner in the green and red spandex outfit was enough to make him bite back a laugh.

Megan was staring out at the harbor, inwardly groaning at the amount of work it would take to pull the reckage from the water. _If we are even able to recover it all... _She flipped open her cell again, pushed number two, and prayed that Don would finally pick up. _Where the hell is he?_

"I talked to witnesses, most of them didn't think there was anything to it. They thought somebody was out making a movie. The explosion was that impressive. So apparently around..." David glanced at his notebook, "10:30 or so, a motor boat came from about there..." He pointed to the pier, "And ended up around here when it blew." His finger traced a path through the water. "The Coast Guard said they recovered enough pieces to see it was a 220DR Stingray..."

"I'd say maybe a couple of crazy teenagers taking a motor boat out so late... But how does that explain it exploding? Do we know who it was yet?"

David felt bad for Megan, knew she had a date tonight._ But it comes with the territory, right?_ "Colby's been checking boat rentals and I was just going to check harbor records."

"That's good. Do we know if there are any survivors?"

"No, but the Coast Guard's been calling in every ten minutes. So far nothing." David paused, placed a hand on Megan's shoulder, "Are you alright?"

She gave him a quick grin, "Yeah, just fine. My b... Larry's back on earth. What more could I want?" Thumbing her cell again, Megan sighed, "Thanks, David."

"No problem." He motioned to her phone, "You haven't got a hold of Don yet, have you?"

Pulling back her hair in a ponytail, she shook her head, "No, I've tried his cell and his home, all I'm getting are answering machines."

"Did you try Charlie's?"

"David, not every one is up at all hours like we are... And besides, he's probably out with his girlfriend." _Like I should be with Larry right now..._

David's mouth dropped open, "Don has a girlfriend?"

"Oh come on, you haven't noticed? He's been leaving work at a decent time, he smells better, smiles more?"

He chuckled, "I guess when you put it that way... You know we should probably call Charlie anyways. Maybe he could work some magic like he did with currents and the Chinese refugee women."

"That's not a bad idea, David. After your done checking harbor records, give him a ring."

"Sure thing, Megan... Hey Colby" David hollered at the junior agent. "Got anything, man?"

They saw Colby strong-armed his way through the crowd of police officers and paramedics. David thought his face looked decidedly pale since he had last seen him. He shoved several papers at Megan, pointed to the lowest line and dropped to the ground, head in hands.

David and Megan did a double take at their friend, "Colby, are you feeling okay? Maybe you should head home."

"Take a look at the damn papers..." His voice was muffled against his palms.

Megan let her eyes scan the pages in front of her. "Okay, standard rental agreement... Use of the boat for one night, rented to... Oh, God..." Her legs buckled under her, David grabbed her by the waist, carefully lowered her next to Colby. "It can't be, no..." David took the papers from Megan. After scanning them, he swallowed back the bile in his throat.

"You don't think..."

David cut him off, "That it was Don's boat...?" he breathed. "According to the coast guard, the wreckage was from a Stingray 220DR." He bit his lip, "This paper says Don Eppes rented a 220DR... for tonight."

"Colby, was that boat gone from the marina?" Megan was desperate, grasping at any straws she could find. It wasn't looking good. Don had been unreachable.the entire night...

"...It's gone," Colby mumbled. "Eddie, the rental guy... He drove it out to the pier tonight for Don. I guess this was set up weeks ago, for when Don got back from protective..." Colby trailed off. _For all the good that did for Don..._ "He said that Don all excited to go on a big welcome home date with his girlfriend."

The three agents sat silent, completely numbed by their discoveries.

Megan stood up, could still feel her legs shaking. "Okay, we don't know anything for sure yet. David, I want you to put a BOLO out on Don's SUV and get his phone records. Find out who he's dating and try to get a hold of her. Maybe..." _Maybe what Reeves? Maybe Don and whoever she is are back at his apartment in bed? Maybe they're at her place watching a movie?_ She fought back tears. "Colby, go check with that Eddie guy again and check to see if he's noticed any suspicious activity lately... Any breeches in security." _Damn, this is... Don, you'd better be alive..._ "I'll go check with the Coast Guard, see if they've found anybo..." She almost said bodies. _No that can't be._ "...anything..."

"Sure Megan."

"I'm on it..."

Megan felt a tissue press into her hands. She carefully wiped her eyes. Her voice cracked, "If this is what happened, what do we tell Alan? Charlie?"


	8. To Tell the Truth

A/N - Patty, I'm glad you lost the battle. Your words were very sweet. They fed the muse... Thank you...

Thank you to all of you for your reviews and for reading my little story...

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There was one last coke sitting in the refrigerator. Charlie opened it and slammed it down. It was late and he was taking a break from his Cognitive Emergence work, which was a break from grading papers, which was a break from a NSA project. _If I keep this up, I should be caught up say somewhere around never..._ He wandered out into the dining room, flicked on a couple of lights and glanced at his father's blueprints for a housing development. He flipped through them, admiring the clean lines and arches. _I'm glad retirement didn't suck you in forever, Dad..._

He heard a knocking at the door. _Did Don lose his keys? _"Hang on, I'm coming." He was surprised when instead of his older brother, there was a large man who he didn't recognize. "I'm sorry, can I help you?" _Maybe you lost your little brother, goes by the name of Goliath...?_

"Are you Charles Eppes?"

"Yes..."

The man pulled out a badge, flashing it at Charlie. "I'm US Marshal Abrahams. I need to speak with you and your father. May I come in?"

"May I see that again?" The man pulled the badge out again, allowing Charlie to study it further. "Yeah, come in. Have a seat. I'll be right back..."

_This is new, maybe a prank from Don... I hope..._ He wanted to believe that, he really did, but that didn't stop his heart from racing. Charlie took the steps two at a time, "Dad! Dad... There's someone here..."

Charlie bounded into his father's room. The moonlight poured in through the gauzy curtains, highlighting his father's still form. He hesitated for just a moment, then gently shook his father's shoulder. "Dad, there's a US marshal here..."

Alan sat up with a start, shaking the last dream from his mind. "Charlie, it's the middle of the... A marshal...?" Alan's face went from annoyed to panic instantly. He grabbed a robe and both men hurried down the stairs.

The man was six - five easy, scruffy blond beard, a gun on his belt. The Eppes men were familiar with the look. "Alan Eppes?" He came over holding out his hand. Alan grasped it and felt his disappear in the massive grip. "I'm US Marshal Tom Abrahams." He took his badge out again. "Why don't you take a seat?"

Alan felt his stomach drop to his feet, clutched Charlie's shoulder as they both sank onto the couch.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush," Abrahams sat in a chair opposite of them. "How much do the both of you know about Don's last assignment?"

"...Well, he was undercover... A drug ring?" Charlie stuttered.

Alan interrupted, "He was in protective custody... There was the trial. He had to testify in closed court..."

"Right," Abrahams nodded. "Don was undercover in a drug, arms, and child porn ring. He gathered intel that shut down the LA branch of the gang and gave us leads to other branches in several different cities. My partner and I were in charge of his security. Unfortunately, we believe that his name was leaked..."

Alan could feel the blood drain from his face. His arms felt numb and his mouth, completely dry. "There's no easy way to say this, Mr Eppes, Charles. But there was an attempt on Don's life this evening."

"No..."

"Is he alright...?"

Charlie jumped off the sofa and started pacing, "It wasn't successful..."

"No, no..." He soothed, "Don's fine. As near as we can tell, he and his girlfriend were out for a boat ride near Venice Beach, when Don discovered the bomb after the engine started acting up..."

"A bomb?"

"Don has a girlfriend?"

The marshal found himself biting back a laugh, "Yes to both questions. They swam ashore and they called me. Now they're both alright, a little banged up and bruised..." He could see that Alan was about to demand to see his son. "But I can't let you see Don just now. We're putting both of them in protective custody and are setting it up to look like the assassination was successful."

"Oh, God..." Charlie breathed. "So what do we do?"

"This is going to be very hard on the both of you, I know. But you'll be getting a visit from the FBI shortly to inform you of Don and Emily's deaths." They started to protest. "It is critical, that you do not, under any circumstance let them know that they are still alive." Abrahams eyes took on a hard glint. "If word gets out that Don is alive... I can promise you that protecting him will be even more difficult."

Alan had worried about many things when Don first told him that he had joined the FBI. More times than he cared to think about, he woke in a cold sweat, images of his son pale and lifeless assaulted his mind. He had conjured up many senarios of Don's demise, but never once did he ever imagine that his son, _Donnie, _could be so brutally hand picked for death.

Charlie resumed pacing, "You're telling me that we're going to bury an empty coffin?"

"Yes and no." Abrahams resumed, "Yes, you'll be burying a coffin. No, it won't be empty. But Don isn't going to be in it."

Alan had slowly regained his coloring, "For how long?"

"What?"

Alan let out a slow breath, trying to control his emotions. "How long is my son going to play dead?" He hissed.

"Officially Mr. Eppes, Don is dead." Charlie had sat back down next to his father, wrapped his arms around him. "A death certificate has been filed. He has a new identity and he'll be relocated to a new city within the week." Charlie started to protest. "Unfortunately, I cannot tell you who he is or where he'll be. This is a critical time and he cannot be contacted by anyone, else his cover will be blown."

"Like his cover was blown the last time, Marshal Abrahams?"

"I deserve that..." The big man pinched the bridge of his nose, looking for all the world like Don in that moment. "That is exactly what we're trying to prevent. I'm truly sorry Mr. Eppes, Charles. I need to get going. But remember, Don is alive and I'm going to do my damndest to keep him that way. Just... for Don's sake, please do not tell anyone what I just told you."


	9. So This Is How It's Gonna Be

A/N - You guys... you're making me blush! Your words are too kind...

Starfleetofficer1 - Confucius say, "Its the journey, not the destination, that counts..."

Now on to what you really want to read...

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"Mr. Cohen, can you hear me?"

His head was aching. Don was sure that Larry let Charlie smash that big drum of his on his head as they banged on it over and over again. _Leave me alone space boy..._ Maybe they dropped the drum over Niagra falls. _No, can't be, I'm... dry...? _There were bright lights overhead. He could hear soft words somewhere over in a corner...

"Mr. Cohen? Are you with us?" _Who in the heck is Mr. Cohen? _There was an incessant shaking on his shoulder. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

Maybe if he did what she asked, she would leave him alone. Don figured he could always set her straight with his name later. He cracked his eyes open and the lights dimmed a little. Someone must have turned the really bright ones off, he mused. A fuzzy girl was in front of him. "It's sure good to see those eyes, Mr. Cohen. Sit tight and I'll get the doctor..."

His vision cleared some and he recognized a burly figure in the corner. "Nice to see you back in the land of the living. You're girlfriend was a little freaked out... So was I."

"Emmy got a hold of you, Tom?" Don's throat was sore and tight. His lungs burned from coughing up saltwater.

The tall man folded himself in a chair at Don's bedside. "She sure did. A mighty fine woman you've got there..."

Don tried to sit up, the banging in his head and Tom pushed him back down. "Where is she?"

Tom motioned toward another bed on Don's left. "She's okay. A little banged up, but she's sleeping now." The man sighed, "She's gonna be pissed when she finds out you woke up without her..."

Don lifted his hand, feeling the bandage on his forehead. "Yeah, you got a nice bump their..." Tom trailed off. "Look, we're almost certain that this was a professional hit. The explosives used, the MO. It had to have been Johnson."

Don nodded reflectively, "Yeah, that's what... I was thinking too."

"You both have to go into protective custody," Tom waved his arm towards Emily. "We're gonna make it look like it was successful..."

Don could feel the headache worsen. "That's why the 'Mr. Cohen...'"

"Nothing gets by you." Tom grabbed a folder out of his briefcase by the chair. He handed it to Don, "You're Joel Cohen..."

Don chuckled softly, "You couldn't have gone with something a little more Gentile...?"

Tom smirked, "You gotta stick with what you know, right?" He sighed, "It wasn't on purpose, Harvey found a damn good cover..."

"It's okay..." Don motioned for him to continue.

"Right..." He continued, "You and your wife, Nina Cohen, came out here to Venice for your second wedding anniversary. She's been dying to see Venetian canals. You being the receptive husband you are thought Venice, CA was just as good as Venice, IT." Don rolled his eyes. _Bad idea, head hurts... _

"Don't worry, she was thrilled..." Abrahams said dryly. "You're moving to Coronet, Colorado to take over your great uncle's outfitter's and sporting goods store that you inherited when he passed. You've always wanted to live there. Great fishing..."

"You've got to be kidding me..." Don continued to puruse the folder, "What about my Dad? My brother?"

"I paid a little visit over to their house right after we brought you two in. I told them what's going on, told them you're okay."

"Good... That's good..."

"We've set up a security detail for them, but we're pretty certain you, possibly Em here, were the only targets." Abrahams tipped back in the chair, "They're the only people besides myself, Marshal Harvey, AD Merrick and the USDA who know you're still alive..."

Don felt like he'd been sucker punched, "My team..."

"I'm sorry, Joel..." The name sounded so strange to him. "But we can't risk any security leaks. The USDA still wants you alive, that intel you brought in really paid off... They'll eventually need you to testify again. And if you want to save your sorry ass and keep your girlfriend on this side of eternity, this is the way its gotta be."

Abrahams was right. Don knew it, knew that protective services didn't work if you didn't follow their rules. He glanced over at Emily... _Nina, Nina, Nina... _"Does she..."

"Yeah, I briefed her already. She understands."

"How long..."

"Have you been here?" Tom interrupted. "You've been in and out of it the last twenty four hours. You should've heard yourself... When we first brought you in, you were going on and on about how you had to get rid of your brother's Schrodinger's cat 'cause your girlfriend's allergic. The doctor had to leave, he was laughing so hard... Wished I had a video camera."

"Oh, man..." Don closed his eyes, massaged his temple with his hand. "Anything else I should know?"

"They said that they could release you once you woke up and proved you didn't have any brain damage." He cocked his eye at Don and grinned, "Come to think of it, maybe they won't let you go."

Tom's sarcasm came from a familiarity after Don's time in protective custody in Minnesota. They had hid out in a hotel in downtown Minneapolis right in the middle of Nicollet Mall, spending the better part of a month staring at Mary Tyler Moore's likeness toss her tam o'shanter while the FBI captured and arrested gang members Don was set to testify against. They had returned to LA county for the trial. That and the convictions went smoothly. Afterwards, Don had stayed a couple of extra weeks in Minnesota after it was over, _just to be sure..._ Apparently the court wasn't as closed as they thought it was.

Don appreciated Tom's levity. The banter lightened the mood. "What is it with you and putting me in cold climates, Tom? You know I don't like snow..."

"Your girl's from Wisconsin. I'm sure she'll figure out how to keep you warm."


	10. It's Never Happily Ever After, Is It?

A/N - Some of the details of protective custody have been fictionalized, along with Coronet, CO, for the sake of the story...

Thanks for your continued support!

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The nurse had come by after Tom had left, _probably just standing guard outside the door..._ She changed the bandage on his forehead, applied an antibiotic cream to the row of stitches below his hair line. The doctor said that he'd be fine. _"You got a pretty good knock on your head Mr. Cohen. We'd like to keep you for one more night of observation." _Well, almost fine. _How many times had he almost told them his name was Don and not Joel?_

He thought about a lesson from his childhood. Alan and Margaret had taken himself and his brother to the synagogue and heard stories from the rabbis there. They didn't have to go when they grew older, there was baseball for Don and math tutoring sessions for Charlie. Hebrew lessons didn't matter much after all that, there was just no time. But as he pondered the idea of a new identity, a word crawled out of a long forgotton closet and came to the forefront of his mind,_ golem_.

Golem meant a lot of different things now: mindless servant or holy one. A rabbi made one once to defend the Jewish ghetto in Prague centuries ago. That golem became so big, he had to be put to death. Golem were prized servants, having one represented the individual was very wise and very holy. Didn't matter the modern interpretation, Don only remembered that golem were mute beings made out of nothing. He wondered that maybe now, he was a golem. They took his name, took his life and were going to shuffle him off the board to some place he'd never been to become someone he didn't know. He just hoped there was no Rabbi Loew who would ultimately destroy him in the end after he had done all he could to protect his city like that poor golem in Prague.

Don had spent most the time carefully studying the folder Tom had left him. It listed some of the information he already knew. His name was Joel Levi Cohen, birthday 04-12-72, originally from Fredricksburg, Virginia, along the Rappahannock River. Don smiled, he had spent a lot of time in Fredricksburg while he was studying, and later, teaching at Quantico. _I know that place like the back of my hand... Canoeing with the guys... Good times... _

Joel was a University of Virginia Cavalier with a bachelor's degree in law and a minor in history. _That's mostly true, I do have the history minor. And well... criminal justice...law. Pretty much the same thing, lots of overlapping classes... Stop thinking so hard, Eppes... Cohen, I mean Cohen... Damn..._

The great uncle whom Tom had been referring to was a Levi Cohen, the black sheep of the family who had left to strike it rich in the West. Levi was a real man and that was his story, except in reality, Levi Cohen had no family and the government laid claim to his store when he passed since he left no will. The marshals took the opportunity presented, creating Levi a fictional heir and giving Don and Emily a chance to get the hell out of Dodge. _  
_

While Emily, _Nina..._ was still sleeping. Don had asked Tom what had happened after he blacked out. _"Well, Joel, she called me... Couldn't understand half of what she said at first, voice was so slurred... Thought it was my sister calling for a designated driver. Nina dragged you back behind the gas station. That girl is freakishly strong... We found the both of you in the bushes, you were completely out of it. Nina was slightly coherant. Tried fighting me off, then checked my badge before she passed out..."_

Raising the head of the hospital bed, Don watched Emily sleep. The navy blue scrubs were too big on her, making her look even smaller and more childlike. Even in sleep, she looked exhausted; the deep circles under her eyes only confirmed it. She had a concussion and there were three butterflies holding together a cut above her right eyebrow, her lower lip was split. A black splint kept her hyperextended right wrist in place. And she was bruised.

They had gone roller blading several times in the months they had been dating. Emily loved it. _Too bad she's not actually any good at it..._ It wasn't that she couldn't. It was the whole stopping thing that messed her up. Literally. She had tried, a twig caught in her blades and she flipped on her back. Nothing was broken, but she was black and blue weeks later. _That was nothing compared to now..._

Emily had laughed off the roller blading incident, took great pleasure in recounting the tale, over-exaggerating every time. Her sense of humor one one of the things that so attracted him to her. There was no pride that withheld her from laughing at herself, an eagerness to try almost anything, at least once. She was quiet and desperately shy until he got to know her, after that a whole crazy, fun personality unleashed itself giving her an unexpected depth.

But the deepest thing, the biggest draw was that she understood him. A lot of terrible accidents passed through her ER: car accidents, fire victims and GSWs. Don had picked her up from work multiple times, and more often than not, there was blood left on her scrubs from a patient. They would drive back to her place and collapse on the couch, flip on a movie and hold each other. He couldn't ever remember just _being_ with someone before and having it feel so right, so comfortable and familiar.

He remembered how his brother reacted after the shoot out in the FBI office. He had made a joke and Charlie didn't like that. _Gallows humor didn't offend her like it did Charlie... _Emily saw things, understood in a way that his father and brother never could. _Never wanted them too..._ Heartache and detachment were part of his job, part of her daily duties. If he didn't want to talk about his day, she wouldn't press. If he just wanted to sit and do absolutely nothing, she was there, quietly supportive, not nagging for details or making him feel guilty that he had no words to vocalize his pain, depression... _Whatever the hell it was..._

Don felt literally sick about the whole thing. Bile in his throat was threatening to make an unwanted appearance. _It was suppose to be a welcome home date, a chance to take things to the next level... _The one nightmare that constantly plagued him wasn't his own demise. Sure that wasn't a pleasant thought, but not entirely unexpected in his line of work. His fear was that the people he loved would get caught in the fallout of his job. There had been a couple of close calls: the Russian mob case... He had been certain that if something actually had happened to Charlie, Alan would have killed him. There had been other situations, most that Alan had no idea that had happened. _Not a snowball's chance in hell of keeping this one a secret..._

And now the FBI had cast a shadow over his whole family, his team and nearly killed his girlfriend.

_And yourself, you big dummy_... He pushed back the blankets, swung his legs over the side. The throb in his head was slowly fading. He paused, took a few deep breaths and pushed himself out of bed. The walk to the bathroom wasn't pain free. His legs were sore and he could barely lift his arms above his head. Studying himself in the mirror, he saw why Emily was so freaked in the water. _I look like Frankenstein's monster... _The bandage hid the nasty cut but not the black eye or deep scratches on his face.

The door opened behind him, Emily tentatively stuck her head in, "Hey, how you doin'?"

He gripped the edges of the sink, dropped his head down, "I never wanted to be a risk for you... I am so sorry Em..." His voice cracked. He heard her footsteps and felt her hands softly touch his back, careful to not hurt him. Her gentleness broke him. Don turned around and hugged her tightly, "I almost lost you... Almost got you killed... I'm so sorry..."

He buried his head in her hair, could feel tears running down his face. "I'm sorry, so sorry, Emily..."

"I'm okay, honey. I'm okay," she whispered. He shivered as her fingers ran through his hair. Don heard her softly chuckle. "You know Don, if you really wanted to marry me... No need to go through all this trouble, you could have just asked..."


	11. You say Goodbye, I say Hello

A/N - Thanks again for the reviews... They really help!

And now, on with the show...

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Alan hadn't got much sleep the night before. Knowing that Don was safe and alive helped, some. But the very fact that he couldn't call him, see him or have contact with him, left an aching feeling deep in his gut. He knew the whole death charade was for Don's safety, but even simply pretending that Don was dead, the sympathy calls, flowers, the constant barrage of grief, was more than he imagined.

It hadn't been surprisingly difficult to pretend Don was dead. And that disturbed Alan more than anything. Not but a few short, awful hours after Marshal Abrahams paid a visit, David Sinclair and Megan Reeves pulled up in front of the old Craftsman house. _They had waited till morning. They were trying to be considerate despite..._ _Despite this horrible nightmare... _No acting was required when he answered the door. Their faces gave everything away and he vaguely remembered collapsing and David escorting him to the couch. _I guess I deserve an Academy Award..._

Charlie had been marvelous as well. He had come down the stairs, all ready to rush off to CalSci. Megan stopped him and he asked if there was something that Don wanted him to consult on or maybe something she needed to discuss with Larry. She asked him to sit down. He demanded to see his brother. They went at it like Forest Gump playing ping pong with that Chinese fellow, when she finally let the other shoe drop._ There was an incident last night...  
_

Marshal Abrahams had been helpful, had been fielding calls and questions from the press. Of course he wasn't able to help them directly, he had to protect Don. But he had made contact with a few people he knew that somehow managed to remove some of the spotlight from Alan and Charlie.

The top dresser drawer had always been Margaret's, knick-knacks mixed between camisoles and slips. Alan rummaged through it, carefully reaching towards the back. A few of the chotskies were still there along with the nylons and lingerie. _There were just some things he couldn't bear to give away... _He pulled out a small jewelry box with a three-stranded pearl and silver chain locket inside. He had given it to Margaret the day Don was born. The three strands were for each member of the Eppes family at that time and in the locket she put a photo of Don on one side, and Alan on the other. She had wore it with everything. _And nothing..._ Alan thought fondly.

There was a knock on the doorframe. He slipped the box in his jacket pocket, hands slightly trembling. "Dad, are you ready to go?" Charlie's reflection came closer in the mirror. He placed his hands on Alan's shoulders, "Megan called, she insisted on sending David to come over to pick us up..."

"Did you tell her no? We can't have anyone go with us, Charlie..."

Charlie took a few deep breaths. "I called Tom, he said as long as we made David wait outside, it'd be okay."

"Well, I guess it's alright then..."

Alan ran his hands through his hair, tried to slow his too-quickly beating heart. Both men visibly jumped when they heard the door bell. Charlie left, walked into the solarium, checking to be sure it was David and not some unwanted visitor. "It's David, Dad..."

The two walked down the stairs, eager to leave, but not particularly excited about maintaining a facade of grief for their friend. The door bell rang again, Charlie stood back and let Alan answer it. "David, hello... Charlie told me that Megan sent you."

"Mr. Ep... Alan. How are you holding up?" David looked horrible. His normally meticulous appearance was gone and a scruffy, puffy-eyed man took his place. Alan wanted to tell him, let him know that his boss, _friend,_ was still alive. _David, I am so sorry..._

Alan simply shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't say what he wanted to, didn't care to find the words he could use. David simply patted him on the shoulder, "Hey Charlie..."

"Let's go..." Charlie had grabbed his jacket and pushed his way past the other two men. Alan gave David a look of apology. He simply mouthed, _it's okay..._

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David pulled up in front of the funeral home. It was a serenely faded apricot stucco building with a red, Spanish tiled roof. There was a small garden in the front with several benches besides an understated fountain. Alan wondered if maybe the intention was that if the place were outwardly calm, it could somehow translate that to those who grieved. The three men climbed out and walked through the front door. "David, you wouldn't mind waiting..."

"No, of course not. I'll be here whenever you're ready to go." David took a seat in the lobby as a tall, silver haired man escorted Alan and Charlie towards an office. They walked into an airy room, a large mahogany desk took up a large space in the center. Bookshelves lined the walls and a fresh vase of exotic flowers stood in front of a closed window.

The man motioned for Charlie and Alan to take a seat while shutting the door firmly. _I wonder if he's a hit man..._ Charlie mused. "Alan, Charles," the man nodded towards each of them. "I'm US Marshal James Harvey. I believe you've already met my partner, Tom Abrahams?"

They both nodded in unison. Marshal Harvey pulled out his badge, allowed the men to examine it. "If you wouldn't mind following me?"

Charlie noticed Marshal Harvey was the polar opposite of Marshal Abrahams. While Tom skirted along the edge of Colombo's rumpled and haphazard look, James Harvey could have gone against George Clooney in a bid for People's Sexiest Man Alive. His hair was stylishly slicked back and his suit looked like it could have easily set him back a house payment.

He pulled open a door on the left side of the office. It lead to a narrow passage way with stairs to the basement. Alan thought perhaps it reminisced a little too much from Nosferatu. He wondered if Don's whole career had been more cloak and dagger than he always imagined. The doorway opened to a chilly morgue. A sickly green tile covered the walls and floor. "If you'll just wait here, he'll be along in a moment."

Alan shivered at the sight of the stainless steel doors hiding what could have very easily been his oldest son's fate. "Don't you find this all a little too morbid, Dad?"

"You've read my mind..." His words were interrupted with another door opening. Marshal Harvey re-entered the room along with...

"Don!" Alan and Charlie sprinted across the room and wrapped the missing Eppes in a group hug. "Oh, God... Donny." Alan didn't try holding back his tears. "Donny, Donny..."

Don tried not to wince as his dad and brother tackled him. It had been less than seventy two hours since the accident and the bruising on his back was still tender. "I'm okay, you guys. I'm alright..."

Alan pulled back, studied the black eye, traced the line of stitches with his hand. "If this is okay, I'd hate to see you when you're not..." The Ghost of What-Could-Have-Been hung like a cloud over the reunion.

They spent the next half an hour talking, Don quietly relayed what had happened, told them about Emily. "Where is she, Don?" _When am I ever going to hear that again?_

Don sighed and Alan wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders. "She's with Tom right now. They said that it'd be safer to keep us apart for the time being. We're meeting up again later tonight when we leave LA."

"Emily's going with you?"

Alan and Charlie didn't miss the quick side glance Don made over to James and the subtle nod that was returned. "Yeah, we're uh... I guess this won't spoil anything..."

Don's face went from rather sad and frustrated to unreadable. "What is it, Donny?"

"...This isn't... Well, what I mean to say..." He held up his left hand, showcasing a silver ring on that all important finger. "We're married... It wasn't planned..." A look of shock passed over Alan's and Charlie's faces. "I mean... We were probably going to eventually anyways... But with the cover stories and new identities... They filed a back-dated marriage license from a month ago... And another from..." Don pinched the bridge of his nose, "I"m sorry, Dad, that you didn't get to throw a wedding like you've been wanting to..."

Alan could feel his eyes misting over again, "Oh Don, there's nothing to be sorry about..." He placed his hands firmly on Don's shoulders. "Do you love her? I mean do you really, truly love her?"

"I do, Dad." He bit his lip, "I'm sorry that I never brought her around..."

Charlie felt the need to jump in, "But you were going to... We had those dinner reservations... It was just bad timing."

"Charlie's right, Don." Alan pulled a son under each arm, mentally imprinting the feel of his family together, one last time. "You had no idea this was going to happen." He paused. "I'm just glad that I brought this..."

Alan drew out the jewelry box from his coat pocket and gave it to Don, "Dad, what... Mom's necklace?"

"She always wanted you to have it Don. She wanted you to give it to your wife someday..." Alan chuckled, "So you have a wife now, she should have it. Just... just don't stay away too long..."

Marshal Harvey cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, but we need to get going."

They gave each other a final hug. "Charlie..."

Charlie was vainly wiping a suspicious moisture out of the corners of his eyes. _Gotta be from all this formeldehyde in the air... _"Yeah, Don?"

He pulled a small bundle from his jacket pocket, "I was wondering if you could hand these out..."

Charlie's face wrinkled, "What are they...?"

"Letters... For my team, Amita, Larry... They need to have..." Don trailed off. The word _closure_ did a slow dance with death in the air.

Charlie fiercely hugged him again. "Don't worry, bro. I'll give them out..."

Alan could feel the heaviness that had been in his chest ever since their first visit from Tom Abrahams, steadily tighten, stilting his breathing. He knew that their time was up with Don. An unfamiliar panic settled in. _When would he see his son again? _He had asked Tom that same question. Tom said that he wasn't sure. Depend on when... if... _when, when, when... _ they caught all the bad guys and who knows how long that would take. "Is there anything else we should take care of, Don?"

"Well, actually Dad..." A familiar twinkle gleamed in Don's eyes, "Do you like tropical fish?"

"I think I'm going to regret saying yes..." It wasn't too hard for Alan to find his sardonic tone.

Don chuckled, "Emily has a fish tank that needs a home. She... she doesn't have any family..." He whispered. "Would you mind?"

Something unfamiliar tugged at Alan's heart. _There was a woman in the Eppes family again. He had a daughter-in-law... How long had he waited for this day? There was someone there who loved his son, enough to stick with him in such a dangerous time. Someone who would take care of his son. _Alan found himself making a mental bargin with God. _If she's taking care of Don, I'll take care of her fish... It was one small way to keep contact. _"Sure, Don. Tell her not to worry. Tell her..." Alan's voice caught, "...tell her she has a family waiting for her when you both come home."

Don's head dropped. There was a suspicious sniffle and a pause, "...Thanks, Dad... Thanks for everything..."


	12. Where Is My Mind?

A/N - starfleetofficer1 - I wish I knew... I have a plan, but the characters will do what they want and I have no control over them!

Thank you all for your reviews! I love hearing what you have to say!

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David had glanced through several of the magazines on the end table next to his high backed chair. There was an outdated Reader's Digest, Better Homes and Gardens and a Field & Stream. He flipped through the pages, but his eyes had glazed over and never quite took in what was in front of him. It didn't matter. He didn't particularly want to arrange geraniums in window boxes or go trout fishing in Montana.

He was surprised that... _what would you call it? How to plan a funeral in ten easy steps? _Whatever it was, was taking such a long time. His watch showed that it had been over an hour already. But he had promised Alan and Charlie he would wait. And he could wait. He _would _wait. Simply because Don couldn't wait any more.

Admitting what he was feeling then was impossible. Not because he was denying what happened or that he refused to confront reality. David was numb. Completely and totally numb. He had lost friends before: growing up in the Bronx, his assignment in Tel Aviv, even here in LA. This one was different though. Don was his boss and mentor, close friend and confidant. _And now Don is dead..._

Merrick had re-assigned the case to another team and gave Megan, Colby and David bereavement leave. Initially David had protested, but now he was glad. _It was getting hard to think, let alone solve a mur..._ So David decided to not think. He would take care of Alan and Charlie. He would do what Don would do because Don couldn't... _Maybe I've been doing this too long... Maybe it's time to find another gig..._

He heard the office door crack open and Alan and Charlie stepped out. They shook the silver-haired man's hand and thanked him. The both of them had red rimmed eyes, but he really didn't quite know what to make of the expressions on their faces. David stood up as they approached them. "Thank you, David... For waiting."

"No problem, Charlie."

Alan sat down in lobby's sofa. He just sat there and stared at the sea scape on the wall across from him. It was a sail boat. Alan found himself wondering if Charlie could determine if a sail boat would create a bigger explosion than a motor boat given the same amount of explosives.

David looked over at Charlie, who shrugged. Charlie sat next to Alan and rubbed slow circles on his back. David studied his hands, incredibly uncomfortable and acutely aware that he didn't truly fit in this tight family moment.

He heard a deep sigh, drawing him away from his cuticles and back to the larger world around him. David watched as Alan stood up and as Charlie kept a protective arm around his father's shoulders. "Let's go, David," Alan said quietly. "We're all done here..."

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The Craftsman house looked different somehow when they returned. A permanence seemed to resonate, a permanence of change. _That's silly though, houses don't grieve... _David pulled into the drive, none of the three bothered to move. They were all lost in their thoughts, in wishes and if onlys. Alan felt so tired and so... _what would you even call it?_ He felt a hand on his sleeve. Charlie had come around and opened his car door. "Come on inside Dad..."

David stayed in the driver's seat, unsure of what exactly to do. He was afraid that maybe Charlie or Alan were mad at him. Well, not him, persay, but what he represented: the Job. The job that... _Stop it Sinclair..._ He heard the car doors slam and prepared to start the engine. There was a knock on his window, he was surprised to see both of them standing there. He rolled it down.

"David, we were hoping that you'd stay for dinner. There's a lot of food..." Charlie bit back something, "Maybe call Colby and Megan... I've already asked Amita and Larry over..."

"I'd love to Charlie..." David's voice sounded rough, tried to clear his throat. "Thanks." It was then he realized that this was what he was hoping for, an invitation to stay in their lives. He didn't realize until all of this, how much the Eppes family had become his own. He saw his sister occasionally and his parents were still in New York. Whenever someone asked him about his family, his thoughts rarely flowed eastward. They mostly centered around Pasadena, a college campus and the FBI office he so rarely strayed from.

He made the call as he watched Alan and Charlie go in the house. Megan and Colby said they'd be there within the hour. Yeah, maybe they were all family in a cheesy _Friends_-ish sort of way. If anyone asked, he would never admit he watched the reruns with Claudia. He would sigh the sigh of the put-upon-boyfriend who watched his girlfriend's show so she would watch the game with him later. But really he didn't mind. David thought about Claudia. Maybe that he could smile again, someday.

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Charlie hauled another stack of dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Amita was standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing off plates, and handing them off to Larry, who was loading the dishwasher. "Charles... Amita and I are perfectly capable of returning your father's dinnerware to it's proper condition without your assistance."

Charlie set the plates on the counter, scraped them off and tossed out the dirty napkins. "I know Larry... It's just, I need to keep busy..."

"Of course, Charles."

The radio covered up the uncomfortable quiet that had been so prevalent. It had mostly been mindless punky pop going off on how everyone needs to live their life to the fullest. _How ironic... _Then there was a break for weather. And then another for news. _The mysterious boat explosion that occurred last Saturday night at Venice Beach Harbor is still under investigation. Officials from the FBI..._

Larry raced to turn it off as a plate slipped out of Charlie's hand and shattered on the tile floor. Charlie realized that his hands were shaking, the new silence was nerve-wracking. Amita stood there, wet hands dripping, uncertain what to do. Larry's head rested against the shelf with the radio on it, quietly cursing the radio commentator.

The people in the other room had heard the crash and a door slam. Alan got up to see what could be happening in the kitchen. He found Amita crying and Larry staring out the kitchen window towards the garage. The plate broken, forgotten, on the floor.

"The radio... There was a broadcast."

Alan understood Larry perfectly and walked out the back door. "Let me handle this." He found Charlie staring at his chalkboards. "Charlie..."

"I don't think I can do this, Dad." There were tears sparking at his lids. "All the looks and... The pity, Dad! Everyone's afraid to say something." He sucked in a breath, "They're all grieving and... and we're not. And they're trying to comfort us. It's not fair ...and it's not right."

Alan remained silent. There was nothing to say that would change anything. Nothing he could say would make Charlie feel better. "I know... It's not easy for me, either. But we have no choice... When I think about what could have happened..." Alan's voice cracked. "It didn't, though... We have guests, and we should get back to them..." Charlie nodded and took several minutes to compose himself before following his father back in the house.

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The kitchen was empty when they returned. The dishwasher was running, the sink was clean and the plate was gone. Voices came from the living room, quieted as the kitchen door swung open. Charlie smiled weakly. "I'm sorry..." _There are those smiles again..._

"We... um..." He glanced quickly at his father. "There was a reason we asked you to come over tonight... Don..." Charlie pulled the envelopes out of the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. "We found... Don left these for you..."

A bomb could have gone off in the middle of the room and no one would have noticed. Attila and all his Huns could have come running through and Charlie would have just waved them on by. _That would definitely add a unique ending to this evening... _Charlie realized his palms were sweaty and hoped that it wouldn't cause any ink to smear. His hands started shaking again, _would he ever be able to keep them steady? _Colby got up and offered to pass them out, all the while motioning for Charlie to take a seat.

Alan wished Don was here to see all this. He could tell that Amita and Larry were surprised. Don wasn't particularly close to either of them, _well, maybe Larry... I suppose he knew this would help Charlie in the end... _He smiled as he watched Amita giggle all the while tears were streaming down her face. "Charlie..." she whispered hesitantly, "Don gave me permission to kick your ass..."

"Get in line, Amita," Colby winked. "Seems like Math Boy here needs a lot of supervision..."

And without knowing why, it was like a dam was unleashed and all the frustrations, the guilt, the pain came rolling out. they all started laughing as if they were watching the funniest movie ever made. _Closure my ass, Don. You missed your calling as a comedian... _It took a few minutes, but the mood sobered again.

"I think Don was in tenth grade... He and... I think it was some kid on his baseball team. They entered this talent contest for school. Some sort of baseball team fundraiser. Did the 'Who's On First' Abbott and Costello routine..." Alan got out of his chair, "I think I have the video of it around somewhere..." He started to open the tv cabinet. "Charlie, do you know..."

"Yeah, Dad..." Charlie got on his knees and pulled a tape out the cabinet with flourish. "I organized them last month..."

"Wait, you're trying to tell me that Don did comedy?" Colby asked.

Alan nodded, "Yeah, he had a reputation of being the class clown more often than not..." _Too bad they never really saw that side of you, Don. _"He wasn't always a serious, tough guy..." _Raising himself, the FBI, inoperable tumors, a broken engagement... That changed all that... _"...You got it all set up, Charlie?"

"Yeah..." He pulled back from the floor, back on to the couch. A younger Don appeared on screen, his hair curly and a faded baseball uniform looked almost small on his long, lanky frame. A shorter, towheaded kid came up to him carrying a box of peanuts around his neck. _"I Don't Know... Third base..." _

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It was late by the time people started drifting out of the Craftsman. Colby and David left together, said something about shots and single malts. Amita and Charlie drifted back out to the garage. Megan was curled up next to Larry on the couch, asleep, the tough FBI agent image she projected, gone. Alan noted that they had never hid their relationship before Larry had left for space. But ever since he'd come home, and even especially more so now, a new urgency pressed their relationship in the fast lane. _If Don's married now, maybe they're next? I guess anything's possible..._

Larry gently woke Megan and they said their goodbyes. She clasped Alan in a hug. A long absent smile teased at Larry's face, "Thank you for this evening, Alan..." His voice was husky. "Don truly was one of the finest men I have ever known..." 


	13. And You thought Sisyphus had it Tough

A/N - Simanis, I'm not sure. They may possibly come up in later chapters.

Thank you for your reviews! I love each and every one... They make me want to write more.

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"Are they here yet?" Don was starting to get anxious. They had returned to the safe house several hours before and were waiting for Tom and Emily to return. He had tried watching Sports Center, normally his favorite show, but now it couldn't keep his attention.

James calmly sat in an arm chair by the door. He had been sitting calmly for the last two hours. _How in the heck does he do that? _James was working on a laptop, glanced over reading glasses at Don, "They're on their way. Should be five minutes, tops."

Don got up from the bed and started pacing. James' cell phone rang and Don wondered if his heart could jump out of his chest. "Okay, good. We'll be there." James shut the phone and then the laptop and slid it in it's case. Don glanced at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently. _Please, could you take any longer? 'Cause that'd be great..._

"You're taunting me, aren't you?" James looked at him with a blank face, slinging the briefcase over his shoulder. He motioned to the door and they walked down the quiet hotel hallway. They took the service elevator down to the parking garage. Don couldn't help but think this was all a bit melodramatic. _When did I get cast in a Scorsese movie?_

There was a big gray laundry truck parked by the elevator's entrance. James banged twice on the back and motioned to Don. He crawled in. _Last time I was in one of these was... Yeah, the Russian case with Gary Walker..._ It was pitch black inside as his eyes had yet to adjust in the darkness. "Joel?" _Emily!_

"Yeah, a rose by any other name..." He felt his way towards her voice.

"Right over here, Romeo."

"Could you be a little more specific?"

"Marco..." She teased.

"Polo..." He tripped over a bundle as the truck started to move. "Ahh..." Her arm tugged on his as they settled in, nestled between laundry bags, leaning against the side.

He slid an arm around her shoulders as she leaned on his chest. "How was your afternoon?"

Don heard her sniffle. "Do you have a kleenex?" she whispered. Her voice sounded a little thick, like she'd been crying. He traced her jawline, felt a stray tear. "Are you okay? What happened?" _I swear, if anyone's hurt you, I'll..._

"They cut... Damn, this is silly... Nearly get killed and this is what ticks me off..." She shuttered a little, wiped a tear away. "Tom said I had to have a makeover, make me look different. Like you're growing out that silly beard..."

"Hey, you said I looked like Travolta in Urban Cowboy..." She buried her face in his chest. Don could hear a muffled sound, "What was that?"

"I don't mean to go all Jo March on you..." She hugged him tighter. "They cut my hair..."

Don froze. Another woman who meant the world to him said something similar a few years back. It wasn't long after they started Margaret on chemo. She had made a few jokes about it at first but he could tell that it bothered her. Don found her in the bathroom in the middle of the night. His mother was holding her hairbrush and sobbing at the sight of the clumps of hair that stuck to it. He held her all night long and then she had him buzz it off like she use to with him during the summer when he was ten and hated his curly hair. Both their reflections in the bathroom mirror cried as he obeyed.

Don wrapped his arms around her, "Hey, I love you no matter how short your hair is..." He ran his fingers through her locks, they ended a couple of inches below her shoulders, "It's not that short..."

"They dyed it..." He bit his lip, _so I guess we skip the honeymoon and go straight to the tough stuff..._ "I look like your freakin' goth sister now... I told them black would make me look like Lily Munster... And I did. That's why they had to cut it..." Don snorted. "Yeah, you laugh now, but you haven't seen it yet..."

"You know my Dad always said I shoulda had a sister..."

"Would a wife work, instead?" She hiccuped. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."

Don pulled her closer, "Hey, there is nothing for you to apologize about... I don't think this could go down as VH1's Best Week Ever. Maybe the worst wedding week in history. We're stressed, tired, extremely sore... How about when we get to Colorado, we rent a movie and eat pizza?"

"Sounds perfect..." Emily shifted, "How was your day?"

"Pretty good... It was nice to see Dad and Charlie... They're gonna take care of your fish."

"Good... I'd hate to see them end up homeless..." He laughed. "What's so funny?" He could feel Emily twist her head as if to try to look him in the face. _Doesn't work so well in the dark, darlin'..._

Don let his head rest on top of hers. "I use to tease my parents, you know whenever they'd ask if I would ever bring someone home to meet them... I told them that I would marry her first. Keep them, and especially Charlie, from scaring her off..." His hand found hers, "I guess I really did."

"That's kinda funny..." Emily slipped her free hand around his lower back, clasping both her hands together as she hugged his middle. "You're a regular Nostradamus." She paused, "So great Carnac the Magnificent... What do you see in our future?"

_That's the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn't it?_ "Witty come back or a serious response?"

"A fairy tale..."

His mother use to tell him stories every night before he went to bed. Fairy tales, fables and Greek mythology... Didn't matter. _Her way of spending time with him after taking care of Charlie the whole day... _And sometimes, she'd read to him from one of his favorite comics. Don had always been partial to Peter Parker. Just an average guy with great responsibility thrust upon him... _That sounds a little familiar... Sure he got some pretty sweet special powers, but kevlar and a Sig count, right?_ And then there was Mary Jane. Beautiful, kind, red-headed Mary Jane Watson. Don thought Kirsten Dunst did her justice, but she was nothing compared to his own MJ. _Take that Spider-Man..._

"I'm really bad at story telling..."

Her breathing had started to slow a little, falling into a more even rhythm. _Maybe Sleeping Beauty would be appropriate?_ "They're easy to tell, G-Man. Every one starts out with 'once upon a time' and each one ends with 'and they all lived happily ever after.'"

So Don carefully rearranged himself and Emily after a sudden turn slid them across the wall, "Okay, one fairly odd tale coming up..." Emily smirked. "Hey, don't laugh, I know where you live... Once upon a time... there was this ordinary guy who got bit by a spider..."

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Don wasn't sure how long they rode in the back of the laundry truck. He drifted off not long after Emily. Spider-Man was just about to save Mary Jane from the Green Goblin when the back of the truck opened, airfield hanger lights blinding them. Their muscles were stiff after the ride. He caught sight of her hair for the first time as he helped her down from the truck, "Your hair..." Emily tried tucking the new bangs behind her ear as her eyes dropped, embarrassed. "You look like Elizabeth Taylor... A young Elizabeth Taylor." He defended.

"Really?" Emily let the darkened strands out of the ponytail. "Elizabeth Taylor... Not a bad save, Joel..."

Tom Abrahams walked over, "Hey, you two lovebirds... The honeymoon flight is leaving in ten. There's a bathroom over in the office if you need it..."

The hanger was a well lit, corrugated metal building. A blue and white Cessna Stationair was waiting just outside. The office was barely visible, but a soft gleam of light peaked out it's window and over the side of the large crates that were blocking its view. Emily pulled Don inside, past the Sports Illustrated swimsuit calender and model planes. She pushed him into the bathroom, kissing him hard as he lifted her off the ground.

Their reflection was visible in the stainless steel towel dispenser, as Don clawed off her hoodie and she unbuttoned his flannel. But before they could go further, she saw his face, her own hair, hazy and distorted by the mirror. _We've changed..._ A tear started down her face and before she knew what was going on, they had both sunk to the floor and Don held her as she wept.


	14. Rocky Mountain High

A/N - Thanks again for all the positive words and input! I hope this is as fun for you as it has been for me!

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The Stationair landed smoothly, skating across the asphalt and began to taxi towards at a small mountain airport. Don chewed his gum harder in an effort to get his ears to pop. _Ah... much better..._ Emily was asleep on his shoulder. She had taken a dramamine before the flight and had been out cold ever since. He could smell her shampoo and decided that it wouldn't be hard to get use to waking up next to her the rest of his life.

He gently shook her. "We're here," he whispered.

She nestled deeper against him. "...Respirations stabilizing... pulse thready..."

Don grinned and nudged her again. "Come on Sleeping Beauty, you can save the world later. It's time to rise and shine..."

Her eyes blinked open. She pulled an arm up to shade her face from the early morning sunlight. "Ahh..." She groaned. "We're here?" Attempting to stretch in the small cabin, Emily bent over in the seat and grabbed her ankles. "I think I need a shower and a toothbrush..."

Don massaged her back and offered her a stick of gum, "Well, we landed... But I don't think 'here' is the 'here' you're referring too..." He rubbed his face, the unfamiliar stubble itched a little. _This is going to take some getting use to..._ He was use to being clean-shaven. Sure, when he was at college he let the facial hair grow, getting rid of it only at holidays and baseball season. And there were times when he was on the road with Coop, during his fugitive recovery days, where he would leave it go week or so at a time. But ever since Albuquerque, when he invested in an electric razor, he had looked sharp and professional.

Emily unwrapped the silver foil from the gum and popped it in her mouth. She bent the foil around her finger and folded it into a knot. A little flap hung over the edge and she bent it under. "So where is here?"

Don watched her nimble fingers form a pentagon. She kept folding it until there was no loose ends left and pushed in on two edges. "Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains..." She flipped the gum wrapper over, pressed it onto Don's chest and kissed his nose. "Aww... you made me a star."

"A tin star, G-Man... We're in the Old West." She cocked her head to the side, "I reckon I should start calling you Sheriff..."

"You reckon?" He snorted at her vernacular. The plane gave a slight jolt as it came to a stop. The star tumbled down, into his shirt pocket. "You're in a good mood this morning..."

Emily leaned against his arm, "We're alive... I'm in the mountains, with my _husband..."_ She stressed. "Rocky Mountain High, Colorado... right?"

He slid his arm around her shoulder, "Isn't it a little too early in the morning for John Denver songs?"

"Get use to it, G-Man."

The engine shut down and Tom Abrahams popped the side door open. Don could see his breath in the early morning air, frost crunched beneath his boots as he hopped down. _Definitely not in California anymore..._ Emily handed him his fleece jacket she'd used as a pillow. As he pulled it on, he watched James Harvey exit shotgun side of the plane and head towards the small airport's headquarters. "That was some pretty smooth flying there, Tom."

The marshal sauntered around the front of the plane, "Shucks, _G-Man..._ That means a lot coming from you."

Don shoved his hands in his pockets, ducked his head. "Hey..." _There's only one person on this planet who can get away with calling me that, and you are so definitely not her..._

"Just giving you a hard time... You're a lucky man," he sighed wistfully. Don shot him a look that said 'don't even think about it.' They pulled a couple of duffle bags from the plane. Don gave his hand to Emily as she stepped down.

"Where are we?"

Tom looked over his aviators. "We're just outside of Nederland, 'bout seventeen miles west of Boulder." The men picked up the bags and Tom started walking towards a gravel parking lot. "We got your vehicle over this way... We'll be driving up to Coronet. It's just ten miles up Highway 72."

He tossed the bags in the bed of a older model, blue truck. Emily started laughing, "You can't be serious..."

"You don't have to thank me," Tom gave them a toothy smile. "It's a present from your great-uncle Levi..."

Don wasn't sure if he should call a mechanic or the salvage yard. The truck had to be close to fifteen years old. The light blue paint was spattered with the occasional rust spot. He peered in the windows and could see strategically placed duct tape on the more worn spots of the upholstery. A small dream catcher hung down from the rearview mirror, drawing his attention to a large crack on the passenger's side of the windshield.

Emily started laughing harder, "D... Joel, get over here."

He inwardly groaned when he walked around the back and saw two bumper stickers. One asked the intriguing question, "What if the hokey pokey is what it's really all about?" And the other threatened, "the closer you get, the slower I'll drive." _We are so going to have to do something about those..._

Don kicked its tires, "Does it even run?"

"Purrs like a kitten..." Tom patted the edge of the bed. "Levi was just like my little, old grandma driving her Olds to church every Sunday. He just drove it between his cabin and the store."

Don wrinkled his brow, "Wait... Did you say cabin?"

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The gravel driveway extended a good mile off Sundance Trail. Sundance Trail was another several miles off Rocky Ridge Road. And all those roads didn't lead to Rome, they branched off of Highway 72. Don figured he had never lived so far from the beaten path in his entire life. _And I don't think my tailbone likes the road less traveled... _"I don't think the names are colorful enough..."

Don pressed down on the accelerator, trying to keep up with Tom and James as their SUV outpaced the old Ford. "I'm a little more worried about keeping the engine intact. These potholes are ridiculous."

"Ah, good old uncle Levi..." She pursed her lips, "What do you think the cabin's like?"

"It better be in better shape than this road. That's all I'm saying..."

"You know this is the part of the movie where the city slicker and the farm girl have to surcum to their wits to survive in the wilderness." She looked at him in mock seriousness, "I want you to know, if it comes to it, you have my permission to eat me."

Don threw back his head and laughed. "We're four miles out of Coronet, I think we'll make it..."

She slid closer to him on the bench seat, "I know, but I love it when you laugh. You're adorable..."

He raised his eyebrow as he regarded her, "Adorable, huh?"

"Just like a chipmunk..."

The driveway started to bend around a stand of pine. The other side of the road was covered in aspen rapidly changing from green to a pale yellow in the cool September air. "Holy cow..." Emily gasped. "Is that it?"

The driveway continued to curved around a lake whose edges disappeared somewhere in the distance. At the eastern end of it sat a small, two story cabin, weathered a silvery gray. The green tin roof blended into the evergreen background. A shed stood back and off to the side, stacks of firewood leaning against it. An old, battered dock lead out into the lake.

The SUV was already parked in front of the cabin. Don pulled up by the shed. They both sat there for a moment to catch their breath. "This is incredible... Simply incredible."

Don climbed out of the truck, _don't think we need to worry about locks way out here..._ He nudged Emily towards the porch, her arm reached out to stop him. "Joel, look." His gaze followed her outstretched hand toward the far west end of the water. "We have a mountain... And a lake."

They mentally shook themselves from their reverie and hurried to join the marshals on the front porch. "Wow, you guys sure know how to pick 'em..."

Tom chuckled, "Naw, you're just lucky. The last guy we had to relocate got stuck in Nebraska..."

Don put his hands down on the split-log railing and watched as several Canadian geese took off from the water. "This sure beats the view back in my apartment." He turned around, noticing an old tin Texaco sign by the door. "You guys are coming out in November when we get snowed in, right?"

James simply shook his head. "There's a bobcat in the shed..."

"A bobcat?" Don asked skeptically, "You're not talking the animal, right?"

Emily giggled, "What's a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?" She patted Don's shoulder, "Don't worry, I know how to run 'em..."

Tom gave her a look of admiration, "Really?"

"Farm girl, remember?"

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The grand tour had taken all of ten minutes. A white bobcat sat in the shed just like James said. Don was sure that it was newer than the truck. The cabin was small, fortunately not so rustic. _Thank God for indoor plumbing _There was a kitchen with a window into the great room, with a small office off to the side. An open staircase lead up to two bedrooms and a bath, all over looking the great room.

Don was surprised to see photos of himself and several boxes of his and Emily's stuff sitting in the living area. "You managed to sneak this out of LA for us?"

An uncharacteristic grin crossed James' face, "You forget, _Mr. Cohen,_ we do this for a living..."

They were surprised as James quickly became more animated as he showed them the security system, well hidden, and not even noticeable or out of place in the cabin. "You've got neighbors about a mile away, take a right out of the driveway and head up Sundance. The Wagners are the first drive on the right. They kept an eye on Levi and they'll probably keep a tight one on you."

Marshal Harvey went on to explain that Coronet was small, twenty-five hundred people, and most everyone knew everyone else. They knew Levi's great-nephew was moving into his place and continuing to run the store. He said they should probably drive into Coronet in the morning to meet Hannah Ellison, who had worked for Levi the past eleven years. "But for now, just get settled. You know how to contact us for anything."

And with that, the marshals left. Emily stood, uncertain, in the middle of the room. _This had been the first time they'd been alone since the whole thing started._ "What do we do now?"

Don gave her a grin, "New bumper stickers for the truck?"

"Please let me keep the hokey-pokey one..."

"Sure, as long as I can cover up the other one..." He started looking through the closet by the door and pumped his fist up triumphantly. Don held up a fishing pole, "How about seeing if that lake has any fish?"

"Only if you dig for worms..." She crossed the floor, closed the space between the two of them. He set the pole down and wrapped his arms around her.

"I know what we didn't do," he whispered in her ear. He lead her back out on the porch, picked her up and carried her across the threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Eppes..."

She gave him a broad smile, "And welcome home to you, Mr. Eppes..." Emily kissed him as he carried her up the stairs, to the bedroom.


	15. Good ol' Boys drinking Whiskey and Rye

A/N - Thanks again for your reviews!

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The sailfin molly crossed diagonally through the plastic seaweed and around the castle again, barely inching past the long snouted wrestling halfbeak. The molly tended to avoid the castle. Particularly when it looked like it was on fire. The rapidly fading sunlight sent flames and sparkles through the water, signaling the beginning of the end to another day.

If Charlie had been paying any attention to his watch, he would have discovered he had been watching the fish glide by for the past two hours. He might have heard the door bell or his father answering it. If he would have paid attention, Larry wouldn't have startled him so when he said his name.

"Charles, I apologize..." Larry had stepped back and away, careful not to step to far into Charlie's personal space. He couldn't help but think of how he had reacted after Margaret's passing.

Charlie took his friend by the arm, "No, I'm fine. Just thinking, is all..."

Larry's expression was skeptical. "Charles, I'm concerned..."

"Larry, I'm fine!" Charlie jumped off the couch and unconsciously paced in a similar diagonal pattern to the sailfin molly.

"It's not even a week, Charles. He hasn't even been properly laid to..." Larry stuttered, "...Are you truly prepared to maintain your course work at CalSci? And Megan informed me that you've asked to resume your consulting duties with the FBI on Monday."

_Please Larry, don't do this... I can't do this... Just let me get on with my life, okay?_

Charlie studied the leaves on the trees outside the solarium windows. He could feel tears prick at his eyes. "...You've been through a horrible tragedy and I'm concerned for you, Charles. For you and your father."

"Larry, please..." He cleared his throat. "I appreciate what you're doing, and all you've done. But I need to do this, okay? I need to find some sort of normalcy..."

Larry slowly nodded. "Alright." He meandered over to the fish tank, tapping a finger on his lip. "Studies have been done to show the remarkable effect and correlation of gazing at fish and lower blood pressure. Is this a new acquisition?"

Charlie turned around to see what Larry was talking about. "Oh, that's Emily's..." _Crap, stupid, dumb... Yeah, you're a regular friggin' genius there, Eppes... Good thing you only consult for the NSA... Not like national security depends on you keeping your trap shut..._

Larry watched the emotions play out on Charlie's face, "Might I inquire who this Emily is?"

He sighed. It didn't really matter if Larry knew who she was or not. It was all going to come out anyways. Tom had explained they had back-dated a marriage license for Don and Emily as well as one for their new identities. _Technically, they're married twice..._ He said they figured if they had to pretend to play house, they might as well make it the real thing. _"Plus," Tom said. "They wanted to get hitched..."_

"Emily's Don's wife..." He couldn't bring himself to speak of his brother in the past tense. He just couldn't.

"Your brother was married?" Larry asked incredously.

_This is more absurd than it sounds..._ "He eloped before he went into protective custody."

"Oh..." Larry slumped back in the sofa, tenting his fingers over his mouth.

"Yeah..." Charlie left the window, wandered back over to the fish tank.

"She died in the accident as well..." It was more of a statement than a question. Charlie nodded, could feel Larry picking him apart with his eyes. "You didn't know this woman, did you, Charles?"

"No, Don kept her a secret..." _The truth hurts, doesn't it?_

Larry nodded and patted him on the back. "I am truly sorry, Charles."

"So am I, Larry. So am I."

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Megan giggled, tipped back in her chair as David poured her another shot. They still had another week or so of leave. So instead of meeting at the FBI, the team, already slightly sloshed, had ended up at the Eppes. Alan was gone for the evening; had gone out with his friend, Art Stanley.

So it was Larry and Charlie who lead them through the kitchen and onto the back porch. On the way out, they snagged all the bottles of Jack and Captain Morgan that people had left the past week. That had nearly doubled the collection Colby and David had already coddled together. It became an impromptu memorial service as Don's teammates drunkenly retold field stories, most of which Charlie had never heard before.

"What'd he say...? Oh, yeah..." Megan leaned forward, elbows on her knees, as if she was telling the biggest secret in the world. "I don't care if you're a PhD, I'm FBI and I think my letters outrank yours..." Tears started to leak out as she tried to stop laughing. "And then he pinned him to the ground and cuffed him..."

"That was the best ever..." Colby howled. "And remember... that Army Recruitment Center bombing case? When we went to arrest that kid?"

David laughed, "Yeah, you tackled him and knocked the blasting gel out of his hands. Don's face was priceless... Thought he was gonna blow up then..."

"Thought he was gonna fire me for that stunt," Colby threw back his whiskey. "Guess he figured my expertise was just to good to waste..."

The college professors exchanged a glance, "You... you almost blew up my brother?" _The proverb's right, with friends like these, who needs enemies... No that's not right. They always had each other's back._

"Not a chance, Whiz Kid." Colby refilled Charlie's still mostly full glass. "Blasting gel is a hell of a lot more stable than the Beckett kid thought. It was a calculated risk."

"Don's life has always been calculated risks..." Charlie started. "You know that scar on his face? He couldn't even play golf safely..."

That caught David's attention, "How so?"

Charlie was staring down at the rich amber liquid, slowly rolling it along the sides of the glass. "Don and a couple of the neighborhood kids..." He glanced at the garage as if to summon the memories back. "They stole their dad's golf clubs and took 'em to a park down the street." Smiling at the story, he continued, "Don and Alex Green had dug a eighteen hole par course back behind the tennis courts... took them most the day to do that."

Charlie took a sip from the glass. "You're suppose to throw it back, Charlie. It's not meant to be savored..."

"Sorry... So it was after dinner time and our mom was starting to freak out, wondering where Don went, when the door bell rang." He laughed, "Dad and Mom both raced to the door, half expecting to see a police officer. Instead it was Alex, who was trying to keep Don on his feet. There was blood everywhere..."

Charlie paused for so long, that he jumped a little when Megan prompted him. "What happened?"

"Alex was taking a swing with his club, couldn't keep a grip on it and it flew back and hit Don in the face. He had to get five stitches. Dad didn't even ground him, he was laughing to hard. After that, Dad and Don went golfing almost every weekend as long as Don didn't have a baseball game..." _Or have to go into protective custody..._

He quickly finished off the whiskey in his glass to distract him from his company.

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Alan Eppes had pulled in and recognized the SUV's parked along the street. He followed the sounds of loud, rauncous laughter and clinking glass. _Smells like a brewery in here..._ The back door was open and he couldn't have been more surprised to see what sorry shape they were all in.

_Charlie's first house party... Should I put that in the baby book, Margaret?_ He grabbed a loaf of bread, deli meat and cheese. After making sandwiches, he found some cookies. Noticed the alcohol was gone from the counter. _What do you think will go first? Their stomachs or their livers?_

"What do we have back here?" Alan carted the food out and set it on the table.

"Want some, Mr. Eppes?"

Alan had to admire the amount of control Colby was showing in spite of all the alcohol he imagined the FBI agent had ingested. "No, but can I trade you?"

Colby grabbed a cookie. "You know what we need now? Beer... beer and cookies... Nothing quite like it."

Alan arched his eyebrow, "I'm sure there isn't."

"Dad, have a seat." Charlie got up and headed to the kitchen for another chair. He sat it down next to his father. "We were just telling our best Don stories..."

"Yeah?" Alan was pleased. "Well then... I think I have a few to share. This..." he waved his arm around at the group, "Reminds me of Don's first house party. Margaret and I had taken Charlie to Princeton..."


	16. Kind Hearts and Coronets

A/N - I still don't own anyone (except Emily, Coronet and it's fine townspeople!) and I'm still so glad for all you're reviews!

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"We keep all the rental skis back here. Not much use for them now, but just you wait. Come the first snowfall, we'll have customers lined up right outside that door." Hannah Ellison was a small woman with silver hair in a delicate twist that belied her career as a clerk in an outrigger's store.

Emily's head was spinning with numbers and inventory. They had spent half the morning going over Levi's books and records. And thankfully, Hannah had them in order. She had spent the last hour taking them through the shop, there were fishing poles and baseball bats, guns and snowboards, canoes and kayaks.

"Now Levi always offered a few workshops at different times during the year." She hoisted a box to an upper shelf in the back room. Don quickly lifted it from her grasp and slid it in place.

"Now I knew there would be something good about having a younger man around the place." Hannah affectionately patted Don on the face.

His cheeks reddened and Emily fought to hold back an amused expression. "What kind of workshops, Hannah?"

The older woman paused and then whirled around so quickly Don had to catch Emily from tripping over the other boxes on the floor. "Let's see, there was gun safety..." She looked Don up and down, "Do _you _know anything about guns?"

Don bit his lip, "Yeah, I've handled a few..." He felt a sharp elbow on his side and a half snort coming from the direction of his wife. _His wife..._ He kept Hannah in his field of view because he knew the moment he saw Emily, he'd lose it.

"Then there was fly fishing, wilderness survival and safety, snow shoeing and skiing..." Emily raised her eyebrows at Don. "And I think he was talking about maybe snowboarding this winter..." Hannah wiped at the moisture in her eyes. "Your Uncle was a good man, Joel. It's good to see someone carry on the family business."

"It's always about family, isn't it, Hannah?"

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Hannah had sent them over to the bar at the end of the block for lunch. "They have the best Reuben with this russian dressing and kraut that is just out of this world."

Lady Clara's was a bit out of place in the small Colorado town. It certainly played against type with synthetic tapestries on the walls, rich mahogany woodwork and tables and a large framed portrait of a medivel girl and a white deer above the bar.

"I was expecting deer heads and guns mounted over the door." Emily said as Don escorted her to a corner booth. "This is pretty classy."

Before Don even had a chance to respond a young waitress came over to them, "You must be the Cohens! I'm Annabelle Stewart. Hannah called me and said you were coming over... She was right, Mrs. Cohen, you look just like Lady Clara over there..."

_How did Mellencamp put it? 'My job is so small town...' _Don could literally feel his brain struggle to keep up with her rapid verbal pace. "Thanks, Annabelle. Please, call me Nina." Don watched appreciatively as Emily handled the conversation. "Who's Lady Clara?" _This is why marriage is necessary, she's like the perfect anti-wing man..._

"...from a Tennyson poem. That painting is a faux - Waterhouse. Don't you just love it? My, you look like her, just stick a rose in your hair..." Annabelle passed out menus and rattled off the specials before running off to get their drinks.

"I didn't know there were tornados in Colorado."

Emily swatted him with her menu, "Play nice, Joel. Who knows, if you're good, I just might set you up on a blind date..." She continued to study the menu, a smirk still teased at her lips. "Hey look at this, it's part of the Lady Clara poem, _'Kind hearts are more than coronets, and simple faith than Norman blood.'_"

He looked at where she was reading from, "Suppose that's where the name of the town came from?"

"You could always ask Annabelle." She paused a beat, "I think she likes you."

"You're just mean, did ya know that?"

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

It was a good lunch. Emily ordered the minestrone soup and Don ordered the Reuben. Emily threatened not to kiss him until the kraut left his breath. He dug out a stick of gum. They had a non-stop stream of people come by their booth to introduce themselves and meet the newcomers to the hamlet.

People still waved to them as they walked back down the street back to "Cohen's Tackle & Outfitters." Don held Emily's hand and felt like the grandmaster at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

"This is crazy," he muttered.

"No, this is small town life." Their arms swung in rhythm to their footsteps. "Really, I grew up in a smaller town than this and so far, this is pretty normal."

Her face scrunched up as she recalled a long forgotton memory. "Example, there was this kid I went to high school with... he had a slight accident with his mom's mini-van down at the gas station. She knew about it before he pulled into the driveway." Emily sighed, "Poor Jimmy, didn't even have a chance."

Hannah left not long after they got back to take her lunch break. The couple putzed around, going though everything one more time, and were briefly startled as the bell over the door signaled they were no longer alone.

Don remained behind the counter, after a steady stream of customers, sighing with relief when the last one left. "Any bets as to how old this thing is?" He motioned at the old school cash register.

"I think I saw an old John Wayne western once, and the general store owner had a newer model." She leaned on the counter next to him. "I've been thinking..."

"Why is that never reassurring coming from you?"

"Seriously," Emily held his gaze. "I want you to teach me how to shoot..."

Don's stomach sank and for a brief moment, he was back in LA and Charlie was begging him to teach him how to fire a rifle. But he could understand where she was coming from. _She has the right to be able to defend herself, especially if something happens to me..._

"...and maybe some of your kick-ass self-defense moves."

"Yeah, sure..."

Emily looked at him worriedly, knew the topic had upset him. She tugged his hands away from his face. "Listen to me, Don Eppes. I trust you, completely. I know you can keep me safe."

He recognized her Nurse Battleaxe persona that she pulled out whenever she had a particularly difficult patient. "It's you, I worry about. Who's gonna back you up? Who's gonna cover your ass while you're busy looking after everyone but yourself?"

She sighed, "We're a team now, buster. For better or worse, remember? No more Lone Ranger act, okay?"

He nodded, strangely pleased at her stubborn insistance. "There's just one thing..."

"What's that?" Emily draped her arm over his shoulder.

"If I'm the Lone Ranger..." Don gave her a smile, "Does that mean I get to call you, Tonto?"

"You're impossible, you know that?"


	17. Oh yeah, Life Goes On

A/N - Still don't own them... And I have a confession to make. A few of you've caught and pm'd me, but yes, the NX overtones were intentional...

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Don studied his reflection in the mirror. In the two and a half months since he'd been in Colorado, the scar from the explosion had faded to a silvery white. It extended a couple of inches across his forehead and then melded under his hair. The beard had grown in thick and dark. Emily teased him about the reddish gleam the hairs cast off in the light. _I think I'll call you Redbeard, the pirate…_ she said.

He raked his fingers through his hair. _Almost time for a haircut…_ But then again, Emily had told him how much she loved the way his hair curled when he didn't gel it or keep it razor short. So he let it go. Not to the ridiculous length his brother's achieved, but just enough so he didn't look quite like Don Eppes, FBI agent. No, he had steadily morphed in to Joel Cohen, mountain man trainee.

The two toothbrushes in a plastic cup by the sink made him smile. It had been hard at first, _heck… it still was, _balancing the new marriage with new identities and the outfitter's store. But like his father told him, the benefits of marriage outweighed the rough spots. And working through them only made their relationship stronger.

He mopped his face with a towel, carefully remembered to hang it back up. Their first fight had been over bathroom towels. Don had never thought about making sure they ended back in their place up on the towel rack before he was married. _As long as they dried, it didn't matter. Right?_ Turns out it did matter and so did picking up his dirty socks and sticking them in the hamper _all the way_.

Don gave his reflection a rueful grin, _You're whipped, fella… And you don't even care…_

The nightlight flickered on after Don shut off the overhead incandescents. It was a short couple of steps from the bathroom to the bedroom. He stood in the doorway and watched as Emily painted her toenails a light purple color. That signaled another change in his mind. _He knew the names of her nail polish…_ Don saw she was using _thistle_, which wasn't her favorite, but used when she was in one of her funky moods.

There was an open box of band-aids scattered across the green and brown crazy quilt bedspread. A few loose wrappers fell around her feet, like lost snowflakes. Emily had blisters on her feet. They had followed Hannah's advice and offered the occasional workshop. So Emily volunteered to teach a beginner's ski class earlier that day which turned out to consist mostly of drunk and hungover college students on winter break. _And apparently someone didn't break her ski boots in well enough before hand..._

"Hey, darlin'…" Don crossed the floor and joined her in bed. She gave him a tired smile. "That was some day, wasn't it…?"

Emily capped the polish. "You know, there are days when I'd give anything to be back in the ER, where things are calm and manageable." Her eyes took on a wistful expression, "What I'd give for a broken leg or laceration… Heck, I'd settle for an IV placement."

He laughed, "If I didn't know you so well, I'd say that's a downright sadistic wish." Don tossed a couple of the throw pillows on the floor. "It's all these dang tourists and college kids coming out to ski."

"All those crazy So-Cal people wishing for a white Christmas…" She laid back on his chest. "…Which reminds me, _California_. We need to pick out a Christmas tree."

Don didn't answer her. Emily rolled over, "Are you okay?" She rubbed his arm, drawing him back from wherever his mind had wandered. She had noticed he'd been doing that a lot lately. Yes, Don was a quiet man, never really opened up about everything. But lately, there had been this unsettling silence about him, like his mind had disconnected from his body. Emily wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "Ground Control to Major Tom."

"Sorry, what?"

Emily straddled his lap, making sure she had his attention, "Christmas tree. You. Me. Saw. Woods. Tomorrow."

His face wrinkled in comprehension. "Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

"How very monosyllabic of you…" Emily settled back in her original spot. She bit her lip, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"_Don_, are you alright?"

Her use of his name, his real name, let him know how concerned she was. They had started using Joel and Nina exclusively after there had been a few too many close calls while they were out in public. That had made for some intensely awkward conversations. Especially when Emily tried to explain why she called him Dojoel. She hastily made up a random story about a first date and dijion mustard. _Maybe she should go out for improv-comedy..._

He let out a breath. Truth be told, he wasn't fine. He hadn't been fine since Thanksgiving. It had been the first time in six years that he'd missed a major Eppes holiday. And the only reason why his track record was even that spotty was because of fugitive recovery.

Emily had done a good job, her turkey probably rivaled his dad's. They invited Hannah, Annabelle and her husband and the Wagners for dinner. He started a fire, Emily bought marshmallows, and they all made smores and played bingo. _There were only a few things missing… Specifically someone who could calculate the amount of tryptophan in a twenty pound bird and someone else who had to watch all the football games and call his bookie every so often to collect… _

Don gently teased her hair. "I've been better," he admitted. She waited for him to continue. "I… It doesn't feel like Christmas," he finally said. "I'd knew I'd miss them… But I didn't think I could this much."

"Your brother and your dad?"

"Yeah… Every year, my parents would throw this Hanukkah Christmas party…"

Emily gave a slight laugh, "Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"

"Maybe… I think it was just an excuse so my mom could have her tree. We'd spin the dreidle, drink egg nog and listen to Bing Crosby. Maybe go surfing. It was great…"

"See, now I can tell you're from Cali. I'd have gone sledding." Don pulled the quilt over the both of them. "My grandpa and I, we'd spend Christmas at home. We'd cook dinner together and horseback riding, watch a Packer game."

"You miss him..."

"Terribly, but it's better that he died before all of this..." she trailed off. "Him thinking I was dead would have killed him. You've got it worse, at least I have my only family member with me."

Don pulled Emily close, "That's not true... My dad and Charlie can't wait to meet you..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Special Agent Megan Reeves gave a cursory nod to the secretary currently busy on the phone as she took a seat along the wall across from her. "Yes, he'll see you tomorrow at nine thirty... Of course, sir. I'll be sure to let him know. Thank you... Goodbye." The younger woman gave a sigh as she set the phone back on it's cradle. "Agent Reeves. He's still in a meeting. He'll be done shortly."

Megan gave her a small smile and a wave, "That's fine, Karen."

The secretarial foyer was large with windows looking out onto the bridge to the side entrance of the FBI offices. A large piece of modern art hung tastefully above Karen's head, a swirl of angry yellows and reds. From where Megan was sitting, she could see both the painting on her left and out the windows on the right. She also had a front row view of the closed door that lead into the Assistant Director's office.

As she began to mentally count the floor tiles, a habit she blamed on her boyfriend and his protege, the door opened and an agent she recognized from the Crimes Against Children office came walking out. The phone on Karen's desk rang and she motioned to Megan to go in.

"Agent Reeves, thank you for coming."

AD Merrick was a tall and, on occasion, imposing man. Currently seated behind his desk, surrounded by files, phone headset in his ear, he certainly looked the part. In the last couple of months, as Megan assumed command of the team, she had found him to be fairly easy to work with.

"I want you to tell me, truthfully, how's Agent Cummings working out for you?"

"Very well, sir."

Edwin Cummings, or Eddie as he prefered, was a new addition to Megan's team. _She refused to think of him as Don's replacement. _He had originally been assigned to a team out east, then successfully completed a transfer to Los Angeles. Eddie had become a asset to the team. He had sharp instincts and got along swimmingly with David and Colby. The only thing that had originally concerned Megan was that this new face would hurt Charlie Eppes, somehow make Don's absence that much more keen.

Charlie had insisted upon that he still be allowed to consult with them. She had originally taken her concerns to Merrick, but he allowed it. And for that, Megan was now grateful. He seemed to take the loss of his brother with a grace she did not expect. Instead, he took on Colby and David as surrogate brothers and Megan, sister. Eddie was still an unquantifiable variable for Charlie. That much Megan could tell. She wasn't a profiler for nothing.

"That isn't the only thing you wanted to discuss with me?"

Merrick studied her closely, "Actually Agent Reeves, it was. You've been doing an excellent job over the past two months and want you to know that I've taken note of it." He got up from behind the desk, circled it, taking the chair next to Megan. "But I know how difficult it can be to lose a fellow agent and keep up the pace. I want to make sure that you're dealing with this in a positive way."

_Subtle, oh so very subtle..._ "You've gotten my performance reviews from the psychologist."

"I have, Reeves. And I have no complaints." _But I don't want to see you burn out_ was the clear ending to the sentence.

Megan was a bit taken aback by Merrick's obvious regard. The man was incredibly understanding and compassionate in the wake of Don's death, but it touched her to see the concern still there after the passage of time.

"Your honesty is appreciated, sir." She paused, "It hasn't been easy, but we're working through it." Merrick's nod told her that this was the admission he was looking for. "I would like an update in regard to the Johnson arrests..."

"Fair enough." Megan and her team had agreed to remain on the sidelines of the on-going investigation into the explosion and subsequent run down for suspects as long as they were allowed to remain in the information loop. "You of course know that we made the Venice explosion hit arrest. The man is currently waiting trial. A few suspects have been apprehended in Arizona with connections to the Phoenix gang, but its still under investigation."

Megan got up, "It's been _under investigation_ for months now! When are we going to bring these scumbags to justice? _We lost an agent to them!_"

Merrick remained eerily calm. What Megan would give to have the man lose his control, just once. "Reeves, I understand your frustration, but you have to believe me when I say that this case is moving forward and we will lock them up for a very long time for what they've done. Trust me, Reeves," Merricks' voice took on a low tone. "Agent Eppes was a good friend of mine as well as one of the best agents I've ever worked with. I will not let his murderers walk."

She turned her back to him, as one hand rested on her hip and the other fainly wiped away not yet fallen tears. She couldn't look at him, fear of losing what little control she had left, "Thank you, sir." Megan said in a horse voice.

"Anytime, Reeves. Anytime."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Charlie Eppes walked through the front door of the Craftsman. He swung his satchel off his shoulder, allowing it to fall on the floor by the stairs. He saw a couple of familiar looking boxes, half opened and maze-like on the floor. After looking at the contents, he recognized the menorah sitting out on the dining room table along with an evergreen wreath. _It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..._

His father had already started hanging up the Christmas and Hanukkah cards on the open doorway between the living room and dining room. Which reminded Charlie that he should be getting an official invitation to an applied analysis and Newtonian physics conference today or maybe tomorrow. He had already been asked to be a keynote speaker, giving a talk on applied math and the FBI. "Hey, Dad! Have you got the mail already today?" He waited for a response, but there was nothing. _That's strange, his car's in the driveway..._

"Dad!" Charlie pushed his way through the kitchen door, "Dad, have you seen the mail?"

_Now that's kind of funny._ The back door was oscillating between open and closed in a light breeze. He was about to close the door all the way when he saw his father sitting on the steps. "Dad, are you okay?"

Alan looked up, startled. "Charlie... I didn't hear you come in."

"How long have you been out here?" Charlie pulled his jacket a little tighter as the cooler air blew by. Alan didn't answer him, simply handed him a Christmas card. Charlie looked at it with a little confusion. "This some sort of prank? Nobody signed it..."

Alan shakily dug out a red envelope, motioned at the feminine penmanship. "I think it's from your brother," he whispered.

Charlie studied the front of the card again. It was a Currier and Ives print of a man and woman with a Christmas tree on a sleigh. "There's no postmark... How'd it get...?"

"I found it in the mail box along with this," Alan handed Charlie the rest of the mail. "I bet Emily wrote the address... Did you read the inside?"

"Yeah, there's no signature."

"Read the inside, Charlie."

He flipped the card open again. This time he paid attention to the green letters inscribed on the interior. Charlie gasped and hugged his dad. "It is them..."

The card fluttered to the bottom step. A casual breeze flipped it open.

_Christmas Eve will find me_

_Where the love light gleams_

_I'll be home for Christmas_

_If only in my dreams..._


	18. Hanging by a Moment here with You

A/N - Thank you for your continued reviews. I love you all!

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming..._  
_

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

"I hope you know I think that's absolutely disgusting."

"You don't have to watch," Don skillfully maneuvered the knife down the belly of the fish, gave a twist, effectively gutting the trout. "Ya know, you don't complain about it when you're frying them up."

"It's different," Emily protested.

He threw the one fish into the empty bucket and started on another one. "You've dissected cats and God knows what else, in nursing school, handled cadavers, worked in an ER…" Don ticked off his points on his fingers. "I really don't see a difference."

"They were all dead…" The fish in Don's hand gave one last mournful flop, "These are just mostly dead." She started to look a little green, "Maybe I'll put the coffee on…"

Don chuckled, "I think that's a wise idea." He watched her, admiring her legs as she climbed up the embankment to their campsite.

It was Memorial Day weekend, still a little chilly in the mountains, but they had both agreed it be nice to get away from Coronet for an extended weekend. _After all, Its not like we ever had a proper honeymoon…_

They told Hannah they were just doing a little field research, testing a new line of sleeping bags they had just got in. She had merely raised her eyes at the two of them, letting them know that they couldn't really pull the wool over her eyes.

As Don finished the last of the trout, he couldn't help but agree with Emily a little bit. _It is sort of disgusting…_

The tent flap was open when he got back. Emily came out pulling a sweatshirt on. _His sweatshirt,_ Don noted wryly. "You_ are_ going to leave me a few things to wear, aren't you, sweetheart?"

She gave him a cheeky grin as she ran her eyes up and down him, "I'm not sure about that…"

He rolled his eyes as he set down the bucket. He ducked inside the tent, grabbing his toiletries, looked enviously at her razor. _Some day, I vow, I will not look like a werewolf… _The sound of pans and plates clattering reminded Don what he was doing.

Emily had pulled out the skillet, lined up the trout in rows and started opening a can of beans. She gave him a quick glance. "You don't mind if I clean up a little?"

"You have to ask? Of course not…" she giggled. "You smell like dead fish."

By the time Don got back, the trout was just about done and Emily was sitting back in a chair, reading Anna Karenina. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, it was more of a deep brunette now and the length was back, long bangs framed her face.

She looked up from her book, "Hey Wolverine, you know what I figured out?"

Don grabbed a tin cup from atop the cooler, poured a cup of coffee. "That she jumps in front of a train at the end?" he finished dryly.

Emily glared at him, "You are so lucky that I've read this before…" She paused, "You've read Anna Karenina?"

"Nah…" The coffee burned going down. "I saw the movie." He watched her pull the trout off the fire, dividing them between two plates. Don grabbed a sturdy stick and pulled the beans off onto a log that served as an impromptu table. "So what did you figure out?"

They snuggled close together as they leaned against a log, letting their feet warm by the fire. Emily set her plate down at her side and took hold of Don's hands. Her face was very solemn, "You have to give up beer."

"What?" Emily had done some crazy things while they were together, most involving whip cream and chocolate sauce. But this was a whole new level of crazy.

She pressed a finger on his lips, "And you have to switch to decaf…"

Don pressed a hand against her forehead, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Never better," her eyes twinkled. "Don't worry; I'll give them up too. Oh, and I can't play baseball this summer."

Don was confused, "What are you talking about?"

Emily started to laugh, "I'm sorry… Now I'm just being mean." The solemn expression was back. She rubbed his hands, studied his fingers and then looked him in the eyes. "Don, I'm pregnant…"

She could have pushed him over with a feather. He could have been drop kicked in front of a train just like Anna Karenina and never would have known what hit him. "You're... what? We used… How…? "

"I think Ross and Rachel already had that conversation…" Emily sighed, "It's fairly simple, when a man and a woman love each other very much…"

Don let his head fall back on the log, "Wow… You're… Wow…"

Emily curled up next to him. "You're going to be a daddy, Donny."

A smile worked its way across his face, _that crazy whip cream and chocolate sauce… damn, _"A daddy… When Emmy?"

"Seven months, give or take…" She pulled the sweatshirt back so he could feel the slight bulge that was there. "I'm not going to break, Don..." He rested a hand across her abdomen.

A full-blown smile was on his face now. Don couldn't have wiped it off if he tried. "Thank you, Emmy… Thank you." He pulled her into a kiss, the light from the camp fire flickered across their faces and the trout was completely forgotten.

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

"Charlie, its time to go!"

Alan inwardly groaned at Charlie's appearance. Not but half an hour ago, he was dressed and ready for dinner. There had been a bit of time before they had to get to the restaurant so Charlie drifted out to the garage, said he had an idea he wanted to work on for the upcoming conference.

Now there was chalk dust covering his sports coat, a pen shoved behind his ear and he was frantically running between a notebook and the blackboards. Amita was dressed to the nines and lounging on the old sofa, "Charlie, what about the axiomatic identities…? Oh, hi Alan…"

"Are you two ready to go?" Alan stood at the doorway, arms crossed his chest.

Charlie whirled around, "Oh hey Dad. Yeah, just let me…" He scribbled something down that looked something like a sigma to Alan. He dropped the chalk on the chalk board's railing, absentmindedly wiping his chalky hands on his pants. Amita giggled and Alan sighed, handing his son a towel from atop the washing machine.

They piled into Charlie's car, Alan insisting that Amita sit next to his son in front. "Do either of you know what the big occasion is?"

"No, all Larry said was that it'd be nice for all of us to go for dinner." Amita turned around to face Alan. "He's right, it's been a while since we've all…" She trailed off. "Since we've had a night out."

It had been nine months since Don had left. And for the first time in nine months, things were really starting to take on a sense of normalcy. _Well, a new normalcy. _Amita had been acutely aware of Don's disappearance and how that related to Charlie, specifically. At first, she had barely left Charlie's side, afraid that he'd fall apart or melt away. And then, when Charlie didn't, Amita almost completely withdrew herself. Only within the past two months had things truly been going well for the two of them.

Charlie pulled the Prius into Valentino's in Santa Monica. The drive had been pleasant, the radio softly played jazz, which surprised Alan. He realized that he hadn't rode in Charlie's car since before Don had left. And the one time he did, _maybe a year ago_, a mixture of Coldplay and Green Day blared through the speakers. No, this radio station was distinctly Don's. Charlie was his rock star son. The one with the big name, flashy clothes with a devout following of math groupies. Don was the timeless one, steady and reassuring. Dependably perfect, like Coltrane or Fitzgerald.

Alan discovered Don's taste in music when he first moved back to LA. The two men had resumed their semi-regular Saturday golf game. Don had drove and Miles Davis played all the way to the golf course. Alan didn't ask about it at first, afraid that Don would get defensive. But after a monthful of Saturdays, Alan prodded and Don admitted that after the stress of his job, it was nice to listen to something so warm and fluid. Alan wondered if maybe Don was a melancholy soul and that maybe he connected to the music more than he cared to admit.

Alan pushed the car door open and followed behind his son. _Good job, Charlie..._ he thought silently as he offered Amita the crook of his arm.

The restaurant was done in burnt umber and delicate murals of olive trees adorned the walls. Murano glass chandaliers cast a soft glow over tables and hushed conversations added a mystical quality. Their waitress lead them to their table, where Larry and Megan already sat. They made small talk and not too long after David came in with Claudia and Colby and Eddie brought new dates of their own.

The food was exquisite, there was proscuitto and melon, stuffed breaded olives, mozzerella drizzled in olive oil and tomatos. And that was only the hors d'oeuvres. By the time they had reached dessert, Alan would have gracefully bowed out. _If only he had his car. _ But his sneaking suspicions of something bigger being planned than simply a night out were confirmed when Larry stood up, wine glass waved in the air.

"I would most like to thank all of you, my dear friends, for joining my dear Megan and I this evening." Colby leaned over the table and mouthed _my dear Megan? _to David's amusement. "I confess, there is an ulterior motive for asking you all to dinner." Megan's hand never strayed from his, "A dear friend of ours reminded me in a letter of some advice I had once given him. He reminded me that the benefits of human contact greatly outweighed the risks. And he encouraged me to take a risk."

Megan stood up next to Larry, keeping her eyes on his, a goofy grin adorned her face. "What Larry's trying to say is..." She took a deep breath. "We're engaged!"

The party rang out with congradulations. Megan proudly showed off her ring to the eager females around the table. The men casting uncomfortable glances at each other, wondering if this was giving their girlfriends ideas.

Alan reached over the table, "I suppose this means you'll be getting a more traditional living space, Larry?"

"The planets each have their orbits..." The physicist blushed and whispered, "And I have found mine."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Don carefully arraged the logs in the fireplace, stuffing crumpled newspaper at the base. He could hear the shower shut off and a few minutes later, the sound of a hair dryer. He struck a long fireplace match and watched as the paper carbonized, sending a lazy swirl of smoke up the stone chimney.

The camping trip turned out to be a bust, when a thunderstorm rolled through, soaking the tent and all their supplies. Don and Emily set a new record for throwing their stuff in the back of the old Ford and heading back to their cabin. They had got back an hour or so ago. They unloaded almost as fast, dragging the tent and the sleeping bags on the front porch. Don had sent her up to the shower to warm up, _there's a baby to think of now..._

It thrilled and terrified him all at the same time. There were the normal parental concerns, of course. But he also worried about protecting a third life. _I'll have to call Tom and let him know..._ He shook his head at the inevitable wisecrack from the marshal. More than ever he prayed that his testimony wouldn't come back and bite him in the ass. More than anything he wished he could board a plane with his wife and head to Pasadena, to an old Craftsman on a quiet back street.

The flames licked the paper hungrily, it didn't take long for the logs to catch. He set the grate and headed to the bedroom, changed into thick, fleece pants and wool socks. The closet was directly across from his tallboy. A small shoe box towards the top was easy for him to reach, not so much for Emily. Don smiled as he remembered his last conversation with his dad and slid the small jewelry box in his sweatshirt pocket. _You think it might be the right time, Mom?_

The hair dryer was off now, signalling Don to go back downstairs. He slipped down the steps, nervously waiting for his wife. _And child..._ There was that manic grin again. Don was certain there was nothing that could wipe it away. The fire was roaring now, sending off heat and dancing light in its small radius. Emily crawled on the couch next to him, curling under his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his torso. Her eyes were closed and she sighed contentedly.

"Hey, darlin'?" Don gently massaged her stomach.

A slow smile crossed her face, "Be quiet, you'll wake the baby..." Her eyes opened and he was certain that he was lost in them.

Don pulled the box out, "This is for you..."

Emily sat up a little straighter, gave him a questioning glance. She opened it and the pearls gleamed in the fire light. "Oh Don, it's beautiful..."

"It was my mother's." He cleared his throat, "My dad gave it to my mom when I was born. They both wanted you to have it."

Emily couldn't speak, but the tears falling from her eyes let him know she loved it. She handed it to Don and pulled up her hair. His fingers fumbled with the delicate clasp, but somehow closed it around her neck. As she faced him, the necklace lovely on her pale skin, he realized that Larry was so right. Cosmic entanglement's rewards were worth far more than what risks he could have ever taken.


	19. I Spent some time in the Mudville Nine

A/N - I considered chopping this in half, but that would have been just mean... Enjoy!

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Charlie nervously fiddled at the wheel of the rental Impala as he studied a map, occasionally throwing nervous glances toward his sleeping father. The math conference ended yesterday and he convinced Alan to take some time off from his business to join him and Amita at the conference. _"After all Dad, when was the last time we took a break together?"_

Amita had decided to fly back to California immediately following Charlie's lecture. She was still a new professor and this semester she was christening a class on combinatorial designs and matroid theory that she hadn't finished prepping for. _"And anyways, Charlie, it will give you and Alan a chance to 'bond'…"_

So here he was, sitting on the side of the road, slightly lost and cursing summer road construction. Charlie was fairly skilled in cartography, though _applied _cartography seemed to be a whole other animal. _How is it that Don can simply off road anywhere and the one time I turn off the interstate to avoid a standstill this happens?"_

Charlie decided to keep driving. The scenery was gorgeous and if Alan happened to wake up, he'd simply tell his dad that they were following Frost's advice on the road not taken. _And I always could pull over, tell Dad it's his turn, fall asleep and let him figure it out…_

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Don stepped out of the barbershop. He grinned when he felt the wind not move his missing locks in the summer breeze. Early July had been brutal so far, unusually humid, and to Emily's wicked glee, 'fro-ing his hair. Protective custody or not, he felt a hell of a lot better with a hair cut closer to the one he had a year ago.

He headed back towards the store, paused when he saw his reflection in a storefront window. Don rubbed his chin, the beard shaved down to a dark almost stubble across his face. _I think I almost recognize me now... _

The little bell above the door jingled as he entered his store, could see Emily chatting up a few people at the counter. He gave a wave as the young family left, the mother scolding her little boy for tangling the fishing lures by the magazine rack.

"Hey there, handsome… Who are you? And what have you done with my husband?" Don sheepishly ran his hand through his no longer bushy hair. Emily gave him a flushed smile, watching the family through the window, "Suppose that'll be us in a couple of years?"

"I certainly hope so." He placed his hands on her bump. It was finally the size where it was truly noticeable under her tank top. Emily was making last ditch attempts to still wear her clothes before she converted to maternity wear. The elastic in the skirt's waistband was stretched nearly to the limit. _She had never looked more beautiful…_

Emily teased the collar of his polo. "Hannah said that she'd close up shop for us, so we could get to the park in time for the doubleheader."

"Good, I think I left my glove at home this morning… That'll give us time to run back and get it." He rubbed the heart shaped locket and gently kissed her.

Lady Clara's had a baseball team that competed against some of the other businesses in town down at the ballpark on the edge of town. Emily had bragged him up as a power hitter and so Don had been recruited as second baseman, occasionally serving as relief pitcher.

It had been fun. The league reminded him of last summer when he had started playing for the FBI. It felt good, felt right to walk on the field, bat in hand, knocking ball after ball out of the park. And every time he looked over at the stands, there sat Emily, front and center, cheering him on.

Tonight was the big tournament, the final straw in the first half of the Rocky Mountain baseball season. Sure, the second season would start in another week, but that didn't matter right now. _This was an issue of pride and testosterone…_

Lady Clara's was set to go up against the Farmers & Merchant bank for the first game and Al's Grocery in the second. Emily had little doubt that Lady Clara's wouldn't win the trophy. _After all, with Don, they had a stunning record…_

"Oh, we should grab the recliner and cooler too." Emily had a hard time sitting in the aluminum stands now. Her back would ache so she used an extra large camping chair with a foot rest that Don would set up for her, next to the stands, under a tree. _Pregnancy had some pretty great perks…_

The bell over the door gave a little jingle and Hannah breezed in, "What are you two still doing here?"

Emily gave a laugh, she loved the older woman. Hannah was almost like a mother to her, "We figured we'd at least wait till you came back."

She shooed them towards the door, Don barely had time to grab Emily's purse, "You, get your wife home and sitting down." Emily started to protest, "She's been on her feet all morning… Now go!"

Emily grumbled while she opened the passenger side door and slid in. "She acts like I'm made of china or something. I'm pregnant, not dying."

Don started the engine, one hand firmly covering his mouth. Emily gave him a funny look and then lightly hit him on the shoulder. "Go ahead, laugh…"

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Alan had woke half an hour ago, both men enjoyed the companionable silence. Until the car started to act up, then both threw worried glances at the engine. The car managed to crawl into town, the wide, main street had plenty of parking in front of the brick buildings. Charlie had managed just to pull into one, when it stalled.

"We better get a refund," Alan slammed the door of the car, beaten by Charlie who had already propped the hood up.

Charlie's eyes wandered over the engine, then realized he didn't know what anything was. Sure, he could fill the washer fluid, the coolant, could point out the engine. Heck, he'd even managed to use the jumper cables once. But he'd never actually had a car break down on him. _Maybe Dad knows the number to Triple A…_

"At least this'll be a memorable trip…" Charlie started.

Alan harrumphed a little and bent over to look a little closer. "If this is memorable Charlie, I think you need to reexamine your ratings system." He rubbed his head, "Go ahead and call the rental company. Maybe there's a mechanic close…"

The rental car company's phone number was listed in a little book in the glove compartment. Charlie tried to dial, frustrated when he saw there was no reception. He followed his Dad into the hardware store.

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

The Lady Clara's was up five to two. Don pushed his hat back far on his head as he pulled out a new piece of gum. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Emily sitting in the shade, two knitting needles and kelly green yarn bundled on her lap. She was laughing at something Annabelle said to her.

He drew his attention back to the game before him. Tony Cahill, Lady Clara's shortstop, had just struck out. Don pulled his glove out and trotted out to second base. _Let's get 'em boys…_

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

"You guys are lucky I'm still here…" The man behind the counter was wrinkled and an indiscernible age. "Now what can I help you with?"

Alan fell in love with the hardware store almost instantly. It had reminded him of one from his youth, the one that he and his father use to visit for nails and brags, or maybe even candy. There was a calendar on the wall that was thirty years out of date. A row of farm toys lined the shelves the man stood in front of.

Charlie quickly outlined their predicament, inquiring about a possible mechanic. The man rubbed under his chin thoughtfully, "There is one, but you won't be able to get a hold of him now…"

The front door opened again, "Leroy, just the man I wanted to see. Do you have anymore of those little hooks that I bought from you last time?"

Leroy circled the counter, wandered towards the back of the store with the woman following behind. Alan chuckled quietly at Charlie's hanging jaw. "It's called customer service, Charlie…"

"I know, then why did he desert us?"

"Did you buy anything?"

Two sets of footsteps became louder on the hardwood floors. The woman plunked a large handbag on the counter, "They've been working so well that I thought I'd get a few more, but it just slipped my mind till now…"

Leroy motioned at the two newcomers, "These fellows are havin' car trouble. You don't know if Teddy's…"

"No, I talked to him just this morning," the woman cut him off. "I think you're the only one still open today."

Charlie shifted uncomfortably as the woman closely eyed his father. "Are you headed down…?" Leroy started.

"Yeah, I could take 'em with me and fix Teddy up with them after."

"Good," Leroy nodded.

Charlie couldn't help but think of how similarly this resembled arguments Don and Alan had about him, talking as if he wasn't there, as if his opinion didn't matter. _And now two random strangers are talking about taking us someplace? Where have we landed?_

A nudge from Alan shook Charlie from his reverie. "This is my son, Charlie. We're just here on vacation."

Leroy proffered a hand, "Nice to meet ya." The woman finished digging through her wallet, left exact change on the counter. "This is Hannah Ellison, I hope you two like baseball…"

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Once the sun had set, the air grew cool quickly. Sweaters and afgans came out, none of the crowd left. Emily and Annabelle huddled together under a blanket, squeezed together in Emily's chair. They eagerly watched as the Lady Clara's whumped the bankers. Now they were holding on, hoping for a victory over cashiers and stock boys.

Al's Grocery was up by two. Lady Clara's was up to bat, bases loaded. Don pulled of his jersey and threw on a long sleeve t-shirt before sliding the burgundy polyester back over his head.

"Okay Cohen, you're up." He gave a quick nod, grabbed his bat and helmet and shuffled out to home plate. One last, quick look at Emily told him her knitting was forgotten and she had walked to the fence, camera in hand. _She's worse than my mom…_ Don threw her a wink and readied his arm to bring his boys home.

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Charlie handed his dad a hot dog, "They've also got nachos, popcorn and those little pixie stick candies."

"Nothing like hot dogs at a baseball game…" Alan took a huge bite, "Yeah, I remember those. I caught you sniffing them once."

A kernel of popcorn hit Alan's shoulder, "That was Don…"

"No, I distinctly remember that being you."

Both men quieted instantly as Hannah and others nearby, shushed them rather loudly. Charlie reddened in embarrassment, returning his attention to the notebook and his popcorn.

When Leroy mentioned baseball, Charlie heard sabermetrics. He bought a notebook from the hardware store and both men eagerly squished into Hannah's truck to take a ride down to the ballpark. It took Alan back twenty years, back when both his sons were in high school together and they would spend all spring and summer watching Don knock them out of the park.

The second game was almost over by the time they got there. Hannah filled them in on the rivalries between Lady Clara's and Al's Grocery. "Al's been beating Lady Clara's past five years straight. But this year we've got a power hitter, my boss. The man's an animal on the ball field." Hannah graciously allowed them to sit with her and continued to fill them in, _just so long as they cheered for her team_.

The first batter got four balls and walked to first. The second nearly struck out, when by some fortune, he made it on base. The third man was not nearly so lucky and was the first strike out. Hannah hung her head at this, "Lance never could quite connect." The fourth man hit it low and was nearly caught out. By then, most everyone was watching through their fingers as the fifth man came up to bat.

Hannah stood up and whistled with her fingers. Charlie found himself wishing that he knew how to do that. _It would sure come in handy during lectures sometimes. _"Come on, Joel! Bring 'em home!"

Alan cursed his old man's vision and their poor seating, up and away from the action. Sodium lights bathed the field in a yellow glow, giving a surreal feeling to the game. Charlie leaned forward, eyes slightly squinted. _Maybe I'm not as old as I thought, _Alan thought

The first pitch was foul, nearly hitting the batter in the thigh. A round of boos passed through the crowd, one lone voice cursing the pitcher. Hannah nudged Alan, "That's his wife, feisty little thing…"

Second pitch was low and outside. The batter refused a hit, giving him a ball instead. Third pitch was a strike. The murmurings in the stands grew louder. The stakes were high. _If Joel hits them home, it's the first trophy win for Lady Clara's in five years…_

Alan watched as Charlie made rapid notations, "Dad…"

"Hush, Charlie."

They watched in silence as the batter pulled back into the hitting stance. The pitcher threw a fastball. There was a crack as the bat connected and the ball flew over the fence. _Lady Clara's wins…_

"Dad, that's Don…"

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Don flew around the bases. The crowd was cheering. He was in his element. For one brief moment he wondered if this is what it felt like to win the World Series, but then he saw Emily waiting for him in the dugout and he thought that he had it better. _Much, much better…_

She flew in his arms, her thick cardigan snagging on his helmet. The baby made for an awkward fit, but somehow he managed to draw her close and kiss her deep. His teammates pulled them apart, hoisting him on their shoulders as they made a victory lap around the bases. Don was glad they didn't dump Gatorade.

Al's Grocery civilly shook hands with their elated opponents, grousing good naturedly about next year and how they let them win this time around 'cause they felt so bad for them. Annabelle gleefully took the trophy from her husband, Jerry, loudly announcing it would have a place of honor above the bar, along with a team photo if they would all care to pose.

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Alan and Charlie sat in shock as they watched the action on the field. Hannah had deserted them long ago to join the revelries. They had watched Don run around the bases, they watched Don as he kissed a woman, they watched as Don was carried off the field. Don was alive and well, _and right in front of them…_

Charlie found his voice first, "What do we do, Dad?"

Alan blinked, never taking his eyes off the dugout, "What do you mean 'what do we do'?"

Charlie's throat was dry and he was scared, "Can we see him, you think? I mean with protective…"

Alan's harsh whisper broke Charlie's thoughts, "You bet your ass, we're gonna see him." The sob he pushed back morphed into a shudder, "It's been nearly a year…"

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Don slung the bat bag over his shoulder. Jerry, the pitcher, snapped a picture of their wives with the trophy. He smiled when they called him over and Jerry took one of him and Emily.

They waved the two off as they headed to the Ford. Don tossed the bag in the back, taking the chair from Emily and threw that in too. He paused when he thought he heard… _something._ Don headed back to the dugout and carted the cooler, glad that between his team and Emily, the water and snacks were gone. _The dang thing gets so heavy…_

He was surprised Emily wasn't in the truck when he got back. The keys were still in the ignition. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled as he heard footsteps approaching.

_Two sets of footsteps, too heavy to be Emily…_ There was a sinking in Don's gut, told him something was off. He gave a double glance in the truck cab, _the gun box… Emily took the Sig…_

Another set of footsteps layered on top of the others. A distinct click of a safety going off. And then a voice broke the tension, "Drop to your knees… Now!"

Don held his hands out to his sides, slowly turned around. He could see Emily, bathed in the lamp light, holding the Sig in the two arm stance he'd taught her. There were two shadowy forms before her, both had nervously obeyed her. Her voice didn't betray her shaking limbs. Don quickly skirted the two figures, Emily practically throwing him the gun.

He guided her around, motioned for her to get in the truck. "What do you want?" he growled.

A timid voice filled the night air. "Donny, it's us."


	20. Take Me Home, Country Roads

A/N - "I got a hundred reviews!"

_she does a little happy dance..._

Thank you all!

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

The smell of blueberry muffins and cinnamon wafted up from the kitchen, climbed the stairs and slipped under a bedroom door. The aroma tickled at Alan's nose, slowly drawing him back to consciousness. _Is Margaret baking again? _He smiled and rolled over, jolting awake when he found a large moose staring him in the face.

_What the...? _Alan's eyes flew open, darted around the room to see what other threats the strange room could hold. Instead, he saw a disassembled crib, teddy bear and a small pile of receiving blankets.

Last night's events quickly came to mind. He was in Don's house, in his future grandchild's bedroom, feeling slightly threatened by a stuffed moose head mounted on the wall. _Now there's a way to wake up in the morning… _Alan slid out of bed, glanced at his wrist watch. After the late night, he wasn't too surprised to see it was well after nine in the morning.

He opened the bedroom door, leaned against the wall and looked out on the great room below. From where he stood, he could see through the glassless window into the kitchen. Emily was twirling around the kitchen, a flour covered apron covered her swelling stomach. Blossom Dearie's voice drifted through the house, Emily's slightly off tune one joined her._  
_

The bathroom was towards the end of the hall. Alan flipped on the lights and saw a stack of clean towels resting on the edge of the sink. A note was tented on top. The penmanship was familiar, from the unsigned Christmas card. Alan chuckled at the message: _Dear Alan and Charlie, please go ahead and use whatever you need. I'm really sorry about holding you at gunpoint. –E._

Alan took the invitation and as he showered he let his mind drift to what happened last night.

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

The Night Before…

Alan's knees shook in _terror_ when he heard a click and the shouted command. The voice was distinctly female. _Does Don have protection we don't know about?_ He couldn't read Don's expression when his son turned around, the darkness and shadows obliterated his features. All Alan knew was that Don hadn't lost any of his speed or agility.

_This would have to happen in the dark…_ The one lone light in the gravel parking lot wasn't enough for Alan to make out who the woman was. Wasn't light enough for Don to see it was his father and brother he was pointing a gun at. _That had to have been Emily, didn't think she was FBI…_

He realized he had zoned out a bit after he heard Don's growl and Charlie's weak response. Don's stance shifted slightly, took a step closer, lowered the gun a little. "Charlie? Dad?"

Alan found his voice, "Yeah Donny. It's us." He heard the safety click back on the gun and a muttered _you've got to be kidding me…_ "Can we get up now?"

"Yeah, of course…" Alan heard bewildered laughter in his son's words as Don helped him up and embraced them both in a bear hug. "God, you're here… Charlie did you run some sort of damn equation on me?"

Charlie didn't answer but then it seemed like all their voices fled them for the moment. _When did he last hold both his sons like this? _They stood there for what felt like forever. When they broke apart, didn't seem near long enough.

"Damn…" Don was wiping his nose with his sleeve. "How the hell did you…? Wait, there's somebody you've got to me."

Charlie remained frozen at his father's side, keeping an arm on his shoulder as Don jogged back towards the truck. They watched as he knocked on the window, the door cracked open. Tentative whispers could barely be heard above the sound of crickets and bullfrogs.

Don tugged Emily from the car. As the couple moved closer, they could hear her say, "…but I almost killed them!" Don responded, "they'll understand…"

Alan felt Charlie pull him under the lamp. That first rush of adrenaline left him breathless. Don had his arm looped around her shoulders, a look of pride stretched over his face. "Dad, Charlie… I'd like you to me my wife, Emily."

They had seen pictures of her before. There was the one from Don's desk at the FBI and some more from when they had to pack up his apartment. They framed one of Don playing on a piano, Emily's arms wrapped around his neck, her head resting on top of his. Alan couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she was. And now… Now she looked so hesitant. "I'm really sorry about that…" Emily turned her head, pulled the large cardigan around her tighter. "I thought you were…"

Alan quickly drew the young woman in his arms. He could feel watery tears leak out his eyes, "Hush, its okay. I'm glad to see you're so… protective of my son…" Emily giggled at that. Alan laughed too and soon she was enveloped in Charlie's arms as well. "I've always wanted a sister," he whispered shyly.

And then for a moment, they just stood there in the lamplight, wondering what to do next. Alan found himself studying his daughter-in-law closely, he watched as Don kept an arm around her back, rubbing it gently. _They really love each other… _Then something clicked in Alan's mind and stared at Don, then Emily. "Wait, you two aren't…"

They gave each other conspiratorial smiles and Don gave Alan his most brilliant grin and nodded. "Yup, we are…"

"You are what?" Charlie studied the looks being thrown back and forth, not quite getting the hidden message.

Emily threw Don a wink, "And he was so polite about not asking about the basketball that got in the way of a proper hug…" She took off the cardigan and stood in profile, "How do ya feel about being an uncle, Charlie?"

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

The cool night air urged them to continue their reunion indoors. Alan squeezed in with Don and Emily in the front seat, while Charlie perched on the cooler near the bat bag. They headed through Coronet, Alan reminding them to stop and pick up their luggage.

"A crazy math conference. The story of my life..." Don pulled the Ford in next to the Impala. "So it just stalled on you?" He climbed out, "Em, why don't you write a quick note for Teddy and we'll get their stuff in the back?"

Charlie hopped out of the truck, unlocked the trunk of the car. Alan watched as he and Don loaded the duffle bags and suitcases in the back. Emily motioned at the glove box, "could you grab the notebook in there?"

Alan tugged on the handle, nothing happened. "Oh yeah, you kind of have to push in and up, twist it a little…" She gave him an apologetic look as Alan finally achieved success. "Everything in the truck works, it just takes a little TLC…"

"I use to have a car with the same sort of trouble." Alan fingered the ragged edge of the visor. "Maggie made me sell it right before Don was born. Said it was a death trap. I for one thought it had a lot of character."

Emily gave a quick gasp. Alan felt his heart rate increase, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" She grabbed his hand, placed it on her stomach. "Do you feel that? Right… just press a little harder. Right there…"

"Oh wow…" he breathed. _My grandbaby… My grandbaby just kicked…_

Don opened the door, "Got the note, babe?" He paused when he saw the look on his father's face, saw the hand on his wife's belly. "He's kicking again?"

"I think he's running a marathon or something…" Emily grinned. Alan's hand hadn't moved and neither had the wonder left his eyes.

"It's a boy?" Alan whispered.

Don shook his head, "Actually we don't know. But Emmy was getting sick of me calling the baby, it."

Emily tore off the paper and Don gave it to Charlie, "Just stick it on the window, Chuck and Teddy'll tow it out to his garage in the morning," Don scratched his forehead. "Well, probably afternoon. The way he was drinking tonight, he's gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow."

"Don't call me Chuck…" Though right now, Charlie didn't really mind. He gave another look at the back of the truck, "How far is it to your place?"

"Not far… just about four miles or so." Don mussed Charlie's hair, "Really, I'll drive slow." Don gave Charlie a long, steady gaze, "I'm glad your car broke down today, Chuck."

"So am I, Don. So am I."

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

The moonlight was reflecting off the lake, a few ducks bobbed by when Don pulled up to the house. Charlie unfolded himself from his unsteady position in bed of the Ford. "Whoa, this is incredible…"

Don let the tailgate down, started setting stuff on the ground. "Just wait till the sun comes up. You can't actually see the end of the lake and there's a mountain right in front of us."

"Damn, when you disappear, Don, you really do it in style…"

"Just wait till you see my bobcat."

Charlie dropped his suitcase and ran after his brother's retreating form, "You're what!?!"

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Emily stood by the doorway and surveyed the three men wisecracking in front of her. _Don must have shown them moose head… _She could hardly believe how excited Don became as he eagerly showed them the house, _My family…_ "Hey, I don't know about ya'll, but I'm a little hungry…"

"I could eat," Don offered.

"You always can eat, love…" she smirked. "Alan, Charlie?" They both nodded and Emily walked off to the kitchen, "Oh Don, show them the video."

"Guys, come over here." Don steered them toward the couch, "You are absolutely gonna love this." He popped the video in the machine, "Its Emmy's last sonogram."

The three men watched with rapt attention. Alan had Don rewind it several times. "If only I would have known it'd take protective custody to get grandkids…" he sighed. "I think it's safe to say that this is the best day we've had in a long time."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

The fire burned low, casting an occasional flicker through the room. Emily had gone to bed an hour ago and Charlie was snoring softly, laying half on the couch and half on Alan. Don knelt in front of the fireplace, carefully stirring up the coals and adding an extra log. "Aren't you tired, Dad?"

"I'm a little to wound up to go to bed now, Donny."

Don slid the poker back in the stand by the grate. "I know what you mean..."

"I could probably drop him on the floor and he wouldn't wake up," Alan carefully moved Charlie from his shoulder to the sofa's armrest. "You've done good, Donny."

The flames started to jump and increase, a spark flew on the tile. Don rubbed it out. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"I really mean it, son. You've got a wife whose crazy about you, a baby on the way..." Alan drifted off, realizing that for the first time in years, Don looked happy. Genuinely content. The weight of the world had rolled off his back and he looked younger for it. He wasn't tied to a cell phone. _Can't even get cell reception out here... _Didn't have to go home to an empty apartment. There was the baseball championship tonight, _and his whole family is here with him now..._ "That ridiculous beard is another story."

Don rubbed his chin, "You should have seen in back in January. Looked like Grizzly Adams or something." He chuckled at the look of disbelief on Alan's face, "Really, we've got pictures..."

"So what are you doing out here?"

A bit of silence preceeded a head rub, "Emmy and I run a store... Camping supplies, fishing, hunting gear. That sort of thing. I've taught a few classes on gun safety. Was gonna lead a few week long rafting tours down the river..." Don glanced up at the second floor, "But now with the baby on the way..."

Alan nodded, "That's the way it goes, got to give up one thing for the other." Don stiffly rolled his neck, _he must be exhausted..._ "Why don't we continue this later? I think maybe I could sleep now..."

Alan got up, Don lifted Charlie's legs up on the couch and covered him with a blanket. He picked up Alan's suitcase, "Upstairs for you, Dad. We've got an extra bed in the baby's room."

"Just so long as it's not a crib..."


	21. If I'd found the right words to say

A/N - Sorry about the delay. After hours of Breakfast at Tiffany's, cold pizza and flat soda, this incredibly depressing chapter came out...

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

The first thing Alan noticed about the cabin was the distinctly feminine flavor. Sure, there was the moose head upstairs, _isn't it the funniest thing ever?_ A huge stone fireplace, the walls were hewn lumber, furniture all rustic tables and chairs. Alan knew what Don's apartment had been like, nicely put together, not really lived in.

The cabin felt like a home.

It could have been the poems taped on the bathroom mirror or maybe the smell of bread that filled the house. _Maybe even the small teddy bear upstairs. Or maybe it's the quirky brunette singing to her pastries, flour streaked in her hair..._ It reminded him of how his apartment changed after he had married Margaret, the towels started matching, the bed got made in the morning and his holey socks disappeared. Life got better. And not because of the sex, _which was fantastic_. Or that she washed and he dried. No, it was because there was a constant someone to love and be loved by. Someone that he could invest his life into and always got a great return.

Alan lied all those months ago when he said goodbye to Don, when he told him that it didn't matter that they never met Emily. He told himself over and over that he understood. That Don was private. That it was okay for Don to keep the relationship a secret. And for a long while, Alan truly thought that is what he believed. _Until last night. _Until he saw for himself how much of Don's life he had missed out on. Until he realized that if the rental would have never broken down, if he never would have walked in that hardware store, if he never would have gotten in that truck with Hannah, _he would've never known he was going to be a grandfather..._

Intellectually, Alan knew that he would have met Emily, would've got to know her had Don's life not been in danger. Maybe if their lives had gone a different way, Don would have exchanged vows out by the koi pond. They might have moved to her place in Venice or bought a house down the street from Charlie's. _But we'll never know now, will we?_ Emotionally, Alan was crushed and elated simultaneously. Elated that he had a grandbaby on the way. Absolutely devestated that Emily was already four and a half months along, _and he hadn't even known..._

_And would we have ever known?_

The western wall of the bedroom was painted a pale yellow. The lingering smell of fresh paint hung in the air. A small dresser was tucked in the corner, the teddy bear mocked him and the moose smirked. _But I know now... _Alan wondered if it was maybe his Maggie who made the car stall, who had Hannah remember those really useful hooks for her wall, who made sure Don was the fifth man at bat.

He was angry, knew full well that it wasn't at Don or Emily. It was easy to be though, to direct his frustrations towards them. They had names and faces. The people who did this, Alan had never met. Wouldn't recognize them at the store or while out for a walk in the park. _How can you hate someone you've never even met? Someone who has inadvertantly changed your entire life?_

_Enough! Stop being so maudlin. You can't change the past, but if you're not careful, you'll ruin the future... _Alan closed the top of the suitcase and stepped out of the room. He almost hated to walk down the stairs, interrupting the morning serenade. But his stomach protested and demanded attention. _And besides, the smells coming from the kitchen are incredible..._

He recognized the tune as Moon River, _Audrey Hepburn's recording..._ That had been one of Margaret's favorite songs, sang it to both their boys as a lullaby. And there was Emily, slowly rocking back and forth cradling her belly, singing softly, _Two drifters, off to see the world_, _there's such a lot of world to see..._

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs... _

Don had spent most the morning cleaning up the yard, chopping unneeded firewood, repairing loose boards on the shed. He was nervous, excited and partially terrified that his dad and brother had found their way to him, _to them_. At first, he thought something had gone terribly wrong, that maybe Alan and Charlie were in danger as well. _They were for a moment when Emily and I had the gun pointed at them..._

But when they told him it was a spontaneous vacation after, of all things, a math conference, Don couldn't help but laugh. After all, Emily was always telling him that stuff happened for a reason. _You tripped on a trash can on the one day I swapped shifts with a friend. Brett Favre threw a touchdown so I could catch your eye. The boat stalled in time for you to find the C4 and the swimming lessons my grandpa made me take finally paid off. It's all providence, G-Man..._

He stuck the hammer in the loop on his carpentry belt. The dock was looking a little rough, he thought. A few planks had rotted and he had yet to replace them. Don went back to the shed and picked up the lumber he had already cut to size and toted them out over the water.

The row boat tied up at the end of the dock rocked back and forth as the wind ruffled through the water. Don liked ripping up the old boards, liked being out in the open air, the scent of pine seductively luring his attention from the house out to the mountain. The physical labor was easy, much easier than the emotional confrontation he was steeling himself for.

Don knew his father, he knew his brother. He could tell that Charlie was happy, that he had been so glad to see his brother that there were no hard feelings or resentments hidden. _Charlie was as easy to see through as a freshly Windexed pane of glass..._ Alan was whom Don was worried about, scared for. The chat by the fireside had been wonderful, one of best times he thought he ever spent with him. The morning would strip away those rosy feelings. Alan would want to know why he wasn't told about the pregnancy immediately, would want to know if he was ever going to be told.

The last nail went in with such force, a perfect imprint of the hammer's head was left on the wood. Don could feel his hand shaking from the blow. He looked at the house. Emily's wildflowers were in full bloom, phlox and black-eyed Susans were set off by Queen Anne's lace. She had even filled an old coffee can with them for the small table on the porch.

He knew she was feeling guilty for last night. When Don had finally crawled in to bed, she confessed she thought it was bears at first. Then she thought it was hit men or someone equally dubious. _I wish my imagination would stop going haywire all the time... This wasn't the first impression I wanted to make on my father and brother-in-law..._ So they blamed it on the pregnancy and hormones, when they both realized how easily it could be for something to still go wrong.

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Don could hear the music through the open windows. The gauzy curtains fluttered as if they were trying to make their great escape to the outdoors. He kicked his work boots off, left them on the porch and stepped inside. _Emily didn't like it when he tracked mud in the house..._

He almost ran into his father when he closed the door. He turned his head towards what Alan seemed to find so interesting. Don gripped his shoulder, "Isn't she great?"

Alan nodded, not trusting his voice. "I remember Mom singing that song... Sometimes, Em puts it on repeat for hours..." Nostalgia laced through Don's words. "I get it. I get why you kept pushing the whole marriage thing. Nothing quite like it... Look, Dad..." He paused, "I know you're upset. And I know apologizing isn't going to change anything..."

"You're damn right."

Alan was slowly clenching and unclenching his fists, a habit Don was terribly familiar with. It was always present when Don had blown curfew, when he came home drunk after his first high school party, when he said he was joining the FBI. "I don't want to fight in front of Emily,"

Don escorted him out on the front porch. He leaned against the railing. Alan took in the view, "This is pretty great, Don."

A Great Blue Heron did a delicate dance at the edge of the lake. "We like it here..." Don could never decide whether to rip the bandaid off or tug at it slowly. _Quick and painless, right? _"We couldn't contact you... Too much of a risk."

Alan's eyes flashed, "Then what in the hell was up with that Christmas card? Why did you bother bringing us home with you last night? Should we leave as soon as the car's repaired?"

"No, of course not..." Don took a deep breath, could feel the familiar FBI fascade slip on. "The card... Tom was going through LA, said he'd drop it off for us." He started to pace the deck, reigning in his emotions, "God, do you think I wanted to keep this from you? I know how badly you've wanted grandkids. This hurts me to, you know..."_ Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Dad?_

Alan's shoulders slumped at that, as if he was suddenly deflated, "I know, Don," he whispered. "And I know it's not your fault..." He wiped at not yet fallen tears, "I'm just so angry... that this... You, your wife..." _The baby._ "All you were stolen from us..."

Don walked over to his father, "But we're all here now..."

Alan nodded, hugged his son, "Thank God for that."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

The refrigerator was open and two bare feet in the space between the door and the tongue and groove flooring. Emily stood up, whirled around, knocking it closed with her foot. "Oh, hi Charlie." She held up two pitchers, "Orange or cranberry?"

Charlie motioned for the orange juice and Emily tossed him a glass. He barely caught it, fumbling to maintain a grip. "Sorry about that..." She smiled sheepishly, "With it being baseball season and everything, I've just been throwing things at Don."

Charlie's eyebrows raised questioningly, "Well, not _at_ him... More of a practice thing..."

He recognized the excuse, "Yeah, we use to do the same thing when he played in high school..." He took a gulp, "He almost broke one of Mom's favorite vases that way."

Emily chuckled, "He never mentioned that one... You hungry?" She motioned at the cooling potato rolls and muffins on the counter.

"Now that you mention it..." Charlie grabbed a blueberry muffin and they both sat at the table, "Oh these are good, Emily," He let the flavors roll on his tongue. "How is it that Don doesn't weigh three hundred pounds yet?" Charlie looked around, "Where is he, anyways?"

She sighed, "He and your dad are fighting on the front porch... I had to close the window, they were getting so loud." Her eyes crinkled, "Do they always do that?"

"Most the time," Charlie agreed, slowly folding and rolling the muffin wrapper on the table top. "Usually it was about me. I'm guessing that..."

"It's about the baby," Emily massaged her stomach. "Don and I discussed this a lot, about letting you know. But he was so afraid that you'd board the next flight and God knows who could be following you..."

Charlie's face blanched, "Did we... Are you in any... danger now?"

"That didn't come out right... No, everything's fine. It's just, this isn't really the easiest thing to figure out, you know?" Emily filled her glass with cranberry juice, "Don's been so torn, wanting to protect all of us..."

She shook her head, "This is depressing. I refuse to talk about it right now..." Emily smiled, raised her glass. "I propose a trade, all my Don stories for yours?"

He knew why Don liked her. Charlie knew now that he liked her too. The two cups splashed a little on contact, sealing the toast. "I think you've got a deal..."


	22. To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

A/N - This has been a bear of a chapter to write. The characters just didn't want to do what they had to in order to move the story forward. It was most frustrating...

starfleet - I have to agree, everybody loves to write about Don. He's the more complex character... And the hotter man... :-)_  
_

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

It had been three weeks since that night in the parking lot of the baseball park. Since then, Charlie had called the airlines twice to push back Alan's and his flight to California, the Impala had been repaired, Emily had finally given into wearing maternity clothes and Don reluctantly reminded them they couldn't stay in Colorado forever.

Don had asked Charlie to go on one last hike since Alan and Emily had been bonding over cuisinart and cookbook. She had chased them out of the house, "Yes, go… Come back for dinner though. We promise it'll be incredible…"

So go they went. Don led Charlie up to a hidden pool several miles up from the cabin. They had spent the day there, swimming and talking, brought enough supplies to grill burgers in a fire pit that had been built on an earlier trip.

"Mmmm… This is good, Don." Charlie sank back against a tree, smile on his face as he bit into the burger.

Their clothes were drying on a nearby bush after _accidentally_ tripping the other into the water. Don slid his t-shirt back on, noted the smoky smell clinging to the fabric. It reminded him of camping trips with his baseball team, with his family and the most important one with Emily.

Don slid his burger off the plate and onto a bun, noticed the slight pink ooze left behind. "I'm glad ya like it," he grabbed the Tupperware with the lettuce, tomatoes and bell peppers, added generous portions of each. "You know," his head cocked, eyes seeing something far away. "It took Jerry and me two days to get that elk."

Charlie's jaw paused, mid chew, "Elk?" Or at least that's what Don surmised he said. _How many times did Mom tell you not to talk with your mouth full?_

"Yeah, elk…" Don stretched himself out against the log he was using as a back rest. "Jerry took me hunting. We got an elk. Well, actually two..." He picked up his sandwich, "Elk burger."

Charlie nodded dumbly and swallowed. _My brother, the great white hunter._ "It's good, Don…"

He studied Don closer, memorizing the changes before he left in the morning. Mentally adding big game hunter to the list. He let his mind drift back a couple of weeks when he first saw his brother. The only thing that tipped him off that it had been Don batting was his stance, the way he played. Charlie had sat through enough of his brother's ball games to know Don's style, his stats, the way he approached the plate.

Had he passed Don on the street, he would've never recognized him. Not with just a fleeting glance. Charlie had teased Don initially about his scruffy appearance. _Hair's getting a little long, isn't it Donny?_ But then Emily had defended him so vehemently that Charlie let it go. Don had pulled him aside later and said it was some sort of pregnancy nesting thing and that Charlie shouldn't take it too personally._ Really, Charlie, she has the craziest mood swings now sometimes…_

"What are you gonna do after?" Charlie asked. He had been putting off the one question that had been burning in his mind for twenty one days now. For a while now, as Charlie watched Don interact with the people in Coronet, how much he put into the store, how much work he had put into the cabin, Charlie began to wonder if his brother would still want to return to LA.

Don turned his head at the question. "After? A shower and clean clothes, buddy. That's what I'm doing after."

Charlie bit his lip and let the slip ride. Don probably didn't know the answer to that question either.

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

The path was fairly narrow, twisted around aspens and wild mushrooms. Charlie raced to try to keep up with his brother. Between the higher elevation and the steepness of the grade, it was fair to say that he was officially out of breath. There was a slight break in the growth and he was relieved to see Don standing there, back to him, waiting.

"Man, you got to slow down…" Charlie bent over, hands on his upper thighs, breathing heavily. "You're going all Steve Prefontaine on me."

"Get over here, Chuckles…" Don spoke in a hushed whisper, his hand beckoning him over to where he stood. "Quietly," he hissed as Charlie's foot came down on a branch.

Charlie was about to protest the nickname, but thought better of it in the almost reverent atmosphere. He scrambled as quickly as he could to his brother's side. Don stood, waiting, with a camera pointed towards some brush and undergrowth. There was a brief flurry of movement and a furry thing ran from one bush to another.

"Whoa," Charlie breathed. "What was that? A badger or something…"

Don was flipping through the pictures on the digital camera screen, held it up for Charlie to see, "A rock chuck actually. Though I've never seen one so far down the mountain."

"Cute, Don… Rock chuck."

Don just shook his head and smiled as he slid the camera back in his cargo pants pocket. "It's officially a yellow-bellied marmot, but I like rock chuck better." Charlie caught the underlying affection in his brother's tone.

They continued hiking down the trail, pressing on to beat the sunset that was already threatening the valley. "I thought you knew all sorts of wildlife, Charlie…"

"Yeah, I do… California wildlife. This Colorado stuff is a bit different. Speaking of which…" a thoughtful look crossed Charlie's face. "Since when have you become Ranger Rick?"

Don stopped so abruptly that he nearly collided with him. "A lot of time has passed, hasn't it?" The non-sequiter caught Charlie off guard. Don stood there, leaning against a tree. Charlie frowned slightly. Don wasn't acting like Don. _Or at least the Don he knew_… Who was Charlie to say what was normal for his brother anymore?

They stood there for so long that Charlie was about to suggest that they head back, when Don broke the silence. "This reminds me of New Mexico… Terrain's different, but I did a lot of hiking out there."

A huge hunk of granite peeked its head out of the ground. Charlie slung off his backpack and sat down on it, knowing he could wait out for whatever Don was trying to say. _After all, Don had never spoken to him about New Mexico before…_

Don joined him on the boulder. From where they sat, they could see the lake and the cabin, lights softly glowing in the distance. "An agent I knew there was killed in a gunfight when a drug bust went bad…" Don's voice almost melted into a whisper.

"A friend of yours?"

Charlie almost didn't catch the nod in the deepening twilight. "Yeah, we were pretty close…" Don's voice shuttered, "His wife was six months pregnant at the time…"

_Oh Don…_ Charlie thought. _No wonder you're having a tough time with this…_

"John was so excited. Hung the ultrasound pictures up in his cubicle, tried to make most the prenatal visits." Don shook his head, "Never really understood how he felt till now."

They could hear an owl calling and Charlie thought about tootsie pops and how many licks it'd take to get to the center of one.

"You gotta promise me something, Charlie. If something happens…"

Charlie started to feel uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, could feel the hairs on his neck stand on end. "Don… please."

"Charlie, listen. If there is something that I've learned, it's that we aren't all guaranteed a hundred years, Five for Fighting songs aside." The earth beneath his feet was fascinating, it was so hard to look at his brother with that pleading look in his eyes.

"Promise me that, if something happens, please take care of Emily and the baby."

Don gripped Charlie's shoulders, "Promise me, Charlie."

"Of course, Don. You know I would."

That seemingly satisfied him. Don got up without another word, Charlie followed as they kept making their way back down to the cabin.

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Suddenly it seemed like the brothers lost twenty years and Don was walking Charlie home from school. Except instead of Margaret waiting for them on the front porch, it was Alan waiting for them when they reached the cabin, "Thought you two got lost out there. I was worried with nightfall…"

Don flashed his father a cocky grin, all the seriousness of the earlier conversation forgotten, _or hidden._ "Aw Dad, I'm touched, really." He held out his arms, then spun Charlie around. "See, no harm done, all in once piece."

Alan turned around and headed in the house, muttering something about the grandfather's curse. "It'll be your turn enough, my son…"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Dad..."

Charlie watched and smiled as Don followed Alan into the house. _This is the way it's suppose to be. Say you'll come home with us, Don. Say you'll come home..._

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Don carefully lifted the luggage into the trunk of the car. He slammed the hood, the finality of the moment hit him. _This is worse than the first time..._ Emily stood on the front porch, a large paper bag sat on the railing next to her. She had fixed muffins and sandwiches for Alan's and Charlie's drive back to civilization. From where Don was standing, he could see her red, puffy eyes. Neither of them had slept very well the night before, Don had woken up several times to Emily crying softly.

Their last dinner together was a somber affair. Alan had made chili and Emily made cornbread. They talked quietly, ate quietly and Billie Holiday sang in the background. Charlie and Alan insisted on doing the dishes while Don started a fire and Emily served apple pie. It was a late evening, though none of them really talked or said much. They simply sat, squished together on the couch and watched as Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant sang to a leopard named Baby on a roof.

It was an early morning, which was alright since nobody slept anyways. Emily was up making a huge breakfast and Alan joined her not too long after. Don carried Alan's suitcase down from the second floor and nearly ran into Charlie dragging his from the office under the stairs. The brothers smiled sheepishly at each other, the moment broken when Emily said the eggs were done.

They had to get on the road quickly. The flight was at nine and the airport was a couple of hours away. Don suggested a charter flight out of the Nederland Community Airport, but nobody, not even he, took it seriously. The clock sounded louder and harder, looking steadily more menacing as the hour hand steadily crept closer to zero hour.

Don gave the Impala's trunk an extra shove. He jumped a little at the footsteps coming behind him. "You know we're not going to get that deposit back if you leave a dent..."

He turned around and faced his father. Don thought that maybe he had something like a smile on his face, "Sorry about that."

"What did your mother say about lying, Donny?" Both men chuckled and watched as Emily handed the paper bag to Charlie, nearly crushing the mathematician in a hug. They both wiped away tears, walked down the steps joining Don and Alan.

"Emily," Alan started. "I don't think my son could have chosen a better woman..." He wiped his eyes, "It has been a pleasure and an honor cooking with you." Alan held her tightly, "I plan on having your help at Christmas..."

"I'll be there..." She whispered.

He gave her a kiss on the forehead, affectionately brushing the hair from her eyes. He cleared his throat and tightly grasped Don, "You take care of her and that baby, son..."

"Will do, Dad." His voice was heavy with unshed tears. It was a long moment before either man released from the hug.

Don turned to Charlie, "Buddy, I'm gonna miss you."

"Right back at'cha bro."

Charlie was caught off guard by the seriousness in his brother's face, "I know you love Amita. Cut the dance, Chuck. You won't be happy till you do..."

"With or without getting blown up?"

At that, they all laughed, the tension broken. Charlie slid behind the wheel and Alan feigned a look of terror. The car roared to life, shattering hopes that maybe it wouldn't work and that maybe the vacation could be extended a little longer. The Impala shrunk the further it went and soon disappeared from sight.

Don slid his arm around Emily, the two of them stepped back up on the front porch. The last three weeks were already feeling surreal. Don could hear Emily whispering from the Tempest, "We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep..." She pulled Don close, "When do we get to wake up?"

He rested his head on top of hers, "I don't know, Emmy. I don't know..."


	23. I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane

A/N - Thank you all for your great reviews! I'm so glad to hear from ya'll...

In the words of Blanch DuBois, "Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindess of strangers."

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

It was nearing the end of the first week of August. Classes at CalSci would start in about a month, right after Labor Day. But right now it was still summer. And summer meant vacation. And vacation could only mean absurdly long waits at the airport. Amita sighed at the line of traffic stretching ahead of her. It had been a difficult few weeks. Originally Charlie said they'd be in Colorado for maybe an extra week then he'd come back and help with a couple faculty events on campus. But he had called several times, never for very long, said that they were staying a little longer. Charlie said they were working through a few things and Amita was glad to hear the two remaining Eppes were growing closer.

So she made excuses to several committees and Larry helped her divide Charlie's responsibilities between the two of them. It stretched her a little thinner than she originally anticipated. But there was still time to finish her preparations. _And maybe Charlie's refreshed enough so I can pick his brain over for advice... _Amita fiddled with the radio, stopping when she heard Sam Cooke singing about slide rules and geometry. A giggle escaped her lips as she thought about 'The Witness' and Harrison Ford dancing with the Amish girl in the barn late at night.

_But I do know that one and one is two…_ The traffic was nearing a standstill now. Amita rapped the steering column impatiently. Several men were wrestling a large box in a not quite large enough trunk. It looked like it had fallen off the roof, leaving a free for all for the owners. _Come on guys, you don't have to be an applied mathematician to figure out it's not gonna fit._ _Next time Charlie, you can take a taxi back from LAX…_

The flow started to pick up again as a police officer waved her car past, _that's more like it…_ She eased the car around the mess and sped up as she got further away. A daily planner laid out on the passenger seat of the car, open with a list, partially crossed off. She mentally went over a few things she needed to work on yet for her lectures.

_And if this one could be with you…_ It was not quite afternoon on a Friday and it it looked like the weekend rush had already begun. Amita steered the car into a lane headed towards the terminal. Charlie had called just minutes before letting her know that he and Alan were waiting outside. _It definitely beats me having to pay for parking then try and find the two of them…_

_What a wonderful world this would be…_ She gave a slight wave as she caught sight of Charlie dragging a wheeled suitcase behind him and Alan waiting underneath an overhang, out of the sun. A space opened up at the curb as a Mercedes pulled away. Amita yanked the wheel hard and slid her Jetta in its place. A grin of self satisfaction crossed her face. _Driving lessons in India wasn't a bad idea…_

She popped the trunk with the lever by her seat and squeezed out of the car, nearly missed being clipped by an SUV roaring by. "Amita!" Charlie raced over to her, threw his arms around her and kissed her.

Amita could say that she was surprised by the very public display of affection. Shocked would probably be the more accurate descriptor. They were so use to hiding their romance, at first because she was Charlie's graduate student, then because of their initial relational awkwardness and currently because they tried to maintain a professorial image. _Well, that's all out the window now…_ She could even feel herself blushing at the cheers that she could hear somewhere, far away.

"God, I've missed you, Amita…" Charlie held her tightly and Amita was secretly delighted with his forwardness. _ It took him long enough…_

She ran his fingers through his curls, "That teaches you not to stay away for so long."

Alan couldn't wipe the smile off his face if he tried, _maybe there will be another grandbaby not too far off in the distance... It's about damn time._ He eagerly joined in the applause for the young couple. _There needs to be just one more homecoming and we could have a happily ever after..._

A loud horn cut off Charlie's reply and both of them snapped into action. Charlie helped Alan finish loading the suitcases in the truck and Amita got back in behind the wheel. She smirked when the radio started to proclaim _my boyfriend's back, and you're gonna be in trouble…_

The front passenger side and rear doors both slammed simultaneously. After a quick query about seat belts, Amita slammed on the gas and shot the Volkswagon out into a gap in traffic. Alan grunted and Charlie gripped the handle above the door. _I think I'd rather be bouncing around the back end of Don's truck right about now…_

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Before the Righteous Brothers had a chance to finish Unchained Melody and after Amita remembered she wasn't in the Indianapolis 500, Alan had fallen asleep. The conversation had dropped off as Charlie could feel the lack of sleep and his sore muscles from the hike the day before take over. He could feel himself drifting along the edges of Morpheus when acoustic strings blended in his subconscious.

Simon and Garfunkle sang with a hushed tone, _He was my brother, five years older than I..._ Amita swallowed nervously, hands frozen to the steering wheel. _He was my brother, twenty three years old the day he died..._ Charlie closed his eyes, let himself ride along with the lyrics. _They shot my brother dead because he hated what was wrong..._

The car jarred slightly when the brakes slammed. _He was my brother, tears can't bring him back to me..._ Amita shut off the radio and both sat in silence, a slight snore came from the back. "It's okay, Amita..." She nodded shakily and restarted the car. Charlie was glad she pulled away from the curb much more gently this time than at the airport.

"You wouldn't believe what happened to the car..." He cleared his throat, "We had to replace the carburetor..." _  
_

"You're kidding… The rental broke down?" They rode along as if nothing unusual happened. "They picked up the tab, right?"

Amita steered the Jetta onto the Eppes' street. Things hadn't changed a lot since they'd been gone, but as Charlie looked out the window it seemed as everything had. There was the corner where he and Don would wait for the school bus. Right besides it was the tree Don would climb with his friends while Charlie waited on the ground, scribbling in his notebook. He felt so much better now knowing where Don was. And most importantly, that he was doing okay. _Who am I kidding? He's doing great..._

"Yeah, they did," Charlie smiled fondly, "It stalled right on Main street and we got stuck in this little town till we could get it repaired." 

"Was it big enough for a hotel or something?"

He could slowly feel his resolve crumble. _I want to tell you so badly, Amita. I want you not to have to worry about songs on the radio. I want you to know how happy I am... I don't want you to be so sad about something that never happened... _On the mostly empty flight back to LA, Alan and Charlie discussed what they could and couldn't mention. It wasn't easy, but they worked out a story. A hopefully plausible one. He carefully chewed the inside of his cheek, a glance backward told him that his father was still in the Land of Nod.

"We stayed at a bed and breakfast a few miles out of town." _Yeah, just so happens that the proprietor is my brother and his wife. Amita, you'll never guess what… I'm gonna be an uncle. Yup, so clear your calendar come December 'cause there's gonna be an addition to the Eppes clan. _"They had a lot of hiking trails and a lake with some pretty good fishing. Dad was psyched…" He laughed, "Did you know there's an animal called a rock chuck?"

Amita smiled, "That's great Charlie." She pulled in the driveway. She slid her hand in his and gave him a quick squeeze, "I'm glad that you and Alan had a chance to just get away. Really, I think this vacation did you a world of good."

Charlie cracked his door open, "You have no idea, Amita." _You have no idea…_

_Numb3rs….Numb3rs….Numb3rs…._

Alan was relieved as he stood in the doorway of the garage and watched as Charlie waved goodbye to Amita. She said she'd stop by later and maybe she'd bring Larry with her if he wasn't busy with Megan and their wedding plans. But for now the siren song of CalSci lured her back to her lectures and classroom prep. _Last thing either of us need right now is to talk about this trip to anyone… _

They dumped everything out in the driveway and Charlie dragged the stuff back to the garage. The suitcases were left by the washer and dryer waiting to be cleaned out at some later time. Alan quickly dug through his, removing the sonogram tape. Don had made him a copy and right now that's all Alan wanted to watch. He paused for a moment as Charlie approached his chalkboards. It reminded him of a rabbi carrying a scroll to be read before the congregation. The same grace, the same gravitas was there. Charlie stood in the middle of his own holy place.

Alan didn't have quite the same regard for chalk dust as his son. A quick glance at his watch told Alan that Don had probably closed up the store now and was headed home to Emily's cooking. That reminded him of the skimpy packet of peanuts from the plane and his stomach rumbled in protest. He began searching through the refrigerator, cursing its empty contents. The pantry was equally barren.

"The worse part of coming home from a trip, isn't it?" He called out as he heard Charlie come up behind him. "Too bad we finished off those muffins and sandwiches...

"Hey, I was hungry..." Charlie flipped open the freezer. A half empty pint of Ben and Jerry's was all he saw, "Not even elk burgers…"

Alan looked up, "Elk burgers?"

Charlie tossed the ice cream back, closing the freezer door. "Yeah, yesterday, the meat…" He was going to say _the meat Don brought_, but it just wasn't safe to mention his name anymore. It would be too easy to mess up. "We had elk burgers," he finished lamely.

Alan's lips twitched a little, "Didn't think he'd ever find another use for that gun. "

"Can you just imagine him dragging one of those home?"

The mental image of Don with a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder hauling an elk to his truck made them both chuckle. "Well, with all those plaid shirts he was wearing, I can almost believe it."

"At least there was no bolo tie..." Charlie gave up looking for food, pulled the phone book out instead and flipped through to the pizza listings. "He did look different..." Placing his index finger next to the number of his favorite pizza place, he looked up at Alan, "Dad, do you think he'll come home?"

The chair scraped heavily on the tile floor as Alan pulled it out and sat down, "I hope he does..."

"Well, you could always move out with him, Dad." Charlie winked at his father, "I don't think that Hannah would mind."

Alan snorted, "Right..."

Neither of them felt like continuing the conversation. Charlie pulled out his cell phone, "Do you think we can order an elk sausage pizza?"

"Here in LA? I don't think so..."


	24. You don't have to be a Hero, Not for Me

A/N - You guys are all really insistent on that whole 'happily ever after' thing...

_author inwardly groans and paces across the room.  
_

_"So much for my whole 'let's pull a Hamlet' and kill them all... Now I'll have to come up with something else. Or will I?" _

_She rubs her chin and laughs evilly as ominous music plays in the background.  
_

I'm kidding! Really... I promise.

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

_**"Ah, you're wasting your time. They can't track us over rocks."**_

_**"Tell them that."**_

_Butch looks over his shoulder... **"Who are those guys?"**_

_Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) to the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford)_

_ Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969_

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

"Hey Joel, what can I get for ya?"

Don stepped into the familiar atmosphere of Lady Clara's. It was late afternoon, right after the lunch rush. A few customers lingered in booths, low conversations hidden by Nat King Cole on the radio. He gave a smile to Annabelle as he crossed over the floor to the bar and sank down on one of the stools.

"Can I get a coffee, regular?" He rested his elbows on the oak surface and buried his face in his hands. "I'm telling ya, Annabelle. Can't handle much more of these crazy bird watchers. I thought the skiers were bad…"

"They just keep coming, don't they? Cream? Sugar?" Annabelle set a brown mug down on the counter, filled it with the steamy brew. "How's Nina and the baby doing today?"

"Naw… I'll take it black…" He winced a little as the coffee left a burn on his tongue. "She didn't sleep to well last night. Between the baby kicking all the time and her ankles swelling… I told her Hannah and I could handle the store today."

Jerry gave Don a quick nod as he set down a hamburger plate to a man at the far end of the bar. Annabelle gave him a light slug on the arm as he walked back over, "Here that Jer? Joel let Nina stay home today. See, there are _some_ husbands who give their wives a break."

"You're not pregnant, Belle."

The waitress rolled her eyes, "Does a woman have to get knocked up to get some attention or courteous behavior?" Annabelle leaned across the counter, lightly gripping Don's wrists, "Please give this man some gentleman lessons or something…"

Don's eyes crinkled as he smiled, "Man, if my mom was around to hear you say that." He whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "I'll see what I can do."

She released his hands and gave Jerry a hug, "I woulda left you years ago if you weren't so cute."

Don averted his eyes, giving the couple the privacy they felt no need for. Even though it had been nearly a year since he first met them, Don still wasn't use to the constant, unchanging physical behavior of the Stewarts. His eyes fell on the baseball trophy on a shelf at eye level, nestled between glasses and liqueurs. Sitting next to it was a framed photo of the team, he and Jerry held the trophy front and center.

A slight squeal and _not now, honey_ returned his attention back to a blushing Annabelle and a slightly wicked looking Jerry. She smoothed her hair and straightened her apron. She glanced over at the trophy and then at Don, attempting to regain her composure. "That was a great day, wasn't it? You shoulda heard Jerry here bragging the team up earlier."

_I wonder how many health code laws they're violating... _Don raised his eyebrows in question over his coffee cup, "Yeah?"

Jerry leaned one elbow on the bar, "It was the strangest thing, Joel. These couple of guys came in here earlier, said they were from..." He turned to around, "Where was it, Belle? Oh yeah, they said Arizona, I think... They kept talking about finally getting back to Phoenix. Setting up their organization... They didn't act like any regular tourists I've ever seen around before. " Jerry refilled Don's coffee. "Yeah, they liked the team photo... Thought it was... what'd he say? Expositionary...?"

"We don't get a lot of people from down that way..." Don swallowed thickly, "Did they give any names?"

Annabelle pulled a towel off her shoulder, started rubbing at some left over Malt -o- Meal from breakfast on the counter. "That big fella didn't say anything, but that little one... Johnson, wasn't it, Jer?"

Don threw a couple of dollars on the counter, "I have to go check on Nina... Tell Hannah that I'm not going to be around the rest of the afternoon. Tell her to get Wayne to help close up tonight..." And with that, he pushed pass a couple of people walking in and ran out the door.

Annabelle leaned on Jerry's arm, "Don't you think Joel's been acting a little funny lately?"

"Maybe it's that sympathetic pregnancy thing..." He motioned at the plates ready to be served, "We should probably get back to work..."

Annabelle sighed, "Well, I'll never have that problem with you..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

The blue Ford barreled down Sundance Trail. He successfully dodged most the potholes, skirted around buckles in the pavement. _There's a lot of little guys named Johnson... It can't be him, God, it can't be... _His thoughts jarred as the truck drifted off the road. He yanked it back on, _Now's not the time to lose your focus. I swear to God, if we get out of this I'll retire and get a regular job..._

Don pulled the truck in his driveway, carefully off-roaded into a stand of pine. He felt for the box under the seat, pulled it out and looked over the weapon inside. The extra cartridges fit easily in the cargo pockets of his khakis, he tucked the Sig in the waistband of his pants. He slid the foam padding aside, revealing handcuffs underneath. Don added those to his pocket as well.

He dropped to a low crouch as he ran through the woods. It wasn't terribly far, but he didn't want any possible escape routes cut off. The plan was to circle around to the back, check the perimeter and clear the house. _There's no need to scare Emily if nothing's wrong. But if there is..._

The cabin looked so peaceful as he approached, a few sheets hung out on the line, the back door propped open to let the breeze in. He mentally chided himself, _there's nothing a matter. Got yourself worked up for nothing, Eppes..._ Still, something didn't seem quite _right._

He scanned the area. _The shed, you moron..._ He ducked around a bush and got a clear view of a black Tahoe parked in front. He could feel his heart sink. _Crap... _Double-checking the Sig, Don felt himself wishing for backup, kevlar and an HRT. _What a hell of a time to be stuck in a place with no cell reception...  
_

Don eased himself up against the logs on the side of the cabin, perpendicular to the front porch. There were several voices, two of whom he recognized instantly. _Double crap..._

"...Like I told you, he's not here right now."

"Mrs. Cohen, I don't think you recognize the situation you're in..." Don tensed as he heard a smack, " Or should I say, Emily Knapp?"

Don plastered himself against the building, forcing himself to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. The last thing he _and Emily_ needed was for him to charge the steps and pull a Bolivian Butch and Sundance last stand. _Okay, you know there's Johnson and one other thug, if what Jerry was saying is true... _

"What is it with you bad guys and the constant need for domination?" She sighed, "I suppose it's too late to late to offer you cookies and coffee and call it a day?"

There was a slight pause and then, "Don't you think you're being rather flippant, Ms. Knapp?"

Don could hear the tension underlying the sarcasm in her voice, "Well, it looks like you and my husband agree on something after all. But really, if we're dropping pretenses, I've never been much of a feminist. I prefer Mrs. Eppes."

The corners of his mouth turned up. _Emmy, this is no time for you to be a wiseass..._ He inched toward the corner of the cabin, carefully peered around. Emily sat in one of the Adirondack chairs, legs casually crossed with her hands resting on her bump looking like she was having lunch with a casual friend, aside from her right foot bouncing in constant motion.

He'd recognize the figure pacing in front of her anywhere. Victor Johnson was a rather unremarkable looking man, a fact that belied his position as crime boss. The man couldn't have been more than five eight, thick glasses and a little more than slightly bald. The only thing menacing about him was the bear of a man stationed behind Emily.

"My apologies... You're a rather old fashion woman, Mrs. Eppes."

_Two against one, not the greatest odds, even with no guns visible... Especially... damn, with Emily and the baby in the middle of this. _He had to create a diversion. What he needed was a lucky break. His eyes scanned the ground around him. A baseball sized rock caught his attention. Using his foot, Don carefully rolled it towards himself. He noiselessly bent over and picked it up.

"Let's just say that Betty Friedan wasn't one of my role models growing up..."

He turned his eyes quickly at the heavens, a familiar prayer from his childhood raced through his head, _Shema Yisrael, the Lord our God, the Lord is One..._ Religion wasn't his strong suit, but now was the time to take any extra help, divine or not, that he could get. Taking a step back from the house, Don pitched the rock up at the roof, pressing himself back up against the wall as it clattered down the green tin.

He eased himself toward the corner again and watched as Johnson waved his hired gun to investigate. _One down, one to go..._ There was a glimmer of recognition in Emily's face as she caught sight of him. She kept her eyes trained on Johnson, Don saw her foot thumping speed up.

"It's probably some raccoon," she said thoughtfully. "Oh, you know what, we've had some grizzly sightings in this area... Yeah, it could be a bear..."

Gun drawn, he crept up the steps, avoiding the squeaks he knew where there. Don crossed the floor with a couple of long, noiseless strides and slammed the butt of his Sig on Johnson's head. "Or maybe my kick-ass husband..." she whispered.

Don bent over, did a pat down, found a Glock and handed it to Emily. He gave her a 'use this if you have to' look. "Are you okay?" He dragged Johnson over to the railing, twisted the man's arms around a solid pole and handcuffed him there.

Her face was white and her hands were trembling. "Took you long enough..." She fingered the gun, "I wasn't expecting company."

"Sorry about that..." There was the distinct sound of a branch being stepped on. Don held a finger to his lips, couldn't see anyone, _yet._ He tugged a couple of loose floor boards, motioned for Emily to climb in the crawl space under the porch.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mrs. Eppes..." She froze, one foot still on the porch. "I would like the both of you to put your weapons down and push them towards me. Do as I say, or I promise I will shoot your wife, Agent Eppes."

Before Emily, Don had never been much into movies. Sure he'd seen major releases, liked Star Wars and Indiana Jones. But she had introduced him to the whole history of cinema. This reminded him of one film they'd watched just recently. And now he was living it. It was _High Noon_ and he was Will Kane and here was his chance to take down Frank Miller, protect Grace Kelly and save the day. The lyrics of the ballad rang in his head,

_The noonday train will bring Frank Miller_

_If I'm a man, I must be brave_

_And I must face that deadly killer_

_Or lie a coward, a craven coward,_

_Or lie a coward in my grave... _

Emily set down the Glock and started pushing it across the floor. Don recognized the opportunity as the only one he'd get. Maybe it was because the world suddenly went into slow motion, or maybe it was because this guy in front of Don was psychic. _Or maybe he could hear the song too... _The moment Don looked him in the eye, he knew this Frank Miller knew what he was going to do. In one quick movement, he shoved Emily to the floor and raised the Sig.

In a more lethal version of sudden death dodgeball, both men fired simultaneously.

Three gunshots echoed in the valley.

Two bodies hit the floor.

There was one loud scream.

And then, silence.


	25. Love Is A Battlefield

A/N - You're reviews are all too kind, but I'll take 'em anyways! Thank you so much!!

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

_**"Kid, there's something I ought to tell you. I've never shot anyone before."**_

_**"One hell of a time to tell me."**_

_Butch (Paul Newman) to the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford), Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969  
_

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Emily was vaguely aware of someone screaming as the guns went off. When Don had shoved her to the floor, she instinctively rolled into a ball to shield her stomach. She crawled behind the overturned chair, desperate to find some sort of cover. There were three distinct cracks through the air, two horrible thuds and then that awful screaming. _Would someone please shut this banshee up?_

But then she came to the realization that her throat starting to hurt, that maybe the screaming was coming from her. She bit her left fist, tried to choke the cries back. _It's okay, you're okay, the baby's okay, Don's... Crap, where's Don?_

Emily tentatively peeked her head around the back of the Adirondack. There in front of her, lying on the floor was Don, blood, the big, scary looking guy and more blood. The Sig had fallen out of Don's hands, landing near his head. She leaned forward as far as her belly would allow and inched the butt of the gun towards her. _Gotcha! Little one, you are so not going to believe this when you're older... _

She made a cautious sweep, eyeing the still unconscious Johnson and keeping the Sig trained at the large man. A large stain covered the upper left chest. But the proverbial nail in the coffin was the small, black hole on the middle of his forehead. _Well you're definitely not going to cause me problems anymore... _

The reality of what had just happened made her want to throw up and run away. Not necessarily in that order. Before she had a chance to bolt, her nursing training kicked in. _She could handle victims of drive-bys, construction accidents, car accidents... But actually watching people taking each other's life... _Dropping to her knees by Don's head, distracting herself from anything else around her, Emily delicately brushed his neck searching for a pulse. There was a steadily growing patch of red on his right shoulder. _Oh, thank God, you're still breathing... _

There was a small groan, "You tryin' to poke my eyes out...?"

"You tryin' to give me a heart attack?" Emily sighed with relief. _A stubborn Don is a very much alive Don... _He tried to get up, "Hey, no moving now... The big lunk in the corner isn't going to be giving us anymore trouble." Emily carefully pressed him back down. "You're bleeding, darlin'..."

"Yeah, I noticed..." He made a small gasp as Emily applied pressure to the wound. "Wait, do you hear...? I thought he only had one henchman...?"

The footsteps grew louder on the tongue and groove, "Yeah, he did..."

Don struggled to raise his head, "Ian..."

"You're suppose to be dead," the sniper deadpanned.

"So...? I got better..." Don let his head fall back on the floor.

Emily's head rapidly went back and forth at the exchange, all the while maintaining pressure on Don's shoulder, "You two know each other?"

The tall, hispanic man stepped over the body and Johnson's legs, "Ian Edgerton, ma'am. I'm with the FBI." He knelt down next to her, "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, no major arteries hit, pulse strong, respirations steady." She peeled back Don's shirt. "It's a little deeper than a graze... You're going to have a nice scar from this one, G-Man..." Emily studied his face closely, _for an awful moment, she thought that she'd never see his eyes open again... _

"Here, can you maintain pressure for me?" Ian complied, his eyes widening with shock at her figure as she ran into the house.

Don gave a yelp, "Jeez, don't push... so hard..."

"You gonna bother to fill me in Eppes?"

"She's a nurse... she knows what she's doin'..." He trailed off, could help but feel a little bit of pride that he'd managed to pull one over Edgerton. "Ian... that's my wife, Em'ly..."

"Apparently you two 've been busy." Ian kept his eye on the door, "When she due?"

Don gave a lazy smile, "December..."

Ian gave a chuckle and shook his head, "Care to explain post-mortem procreation to me? Can't be easy after rigor mortis sets in..."

The front door swung open and Emily came back out with a first aid kit and towels. "Can you help me get him up?"

Ian carefully grasped Don under his left arm and pulled him upwards, supporting his back as Don leaned against the wall. Emily pulled a scissors out of her back pocket and started on Don's shirt. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this..."

Ian cocked an eyebrow, "Go at your husband with a pair of scissors?"

She gave Edgerton a smirk, "I know better than that. He's a federal agent." Emily snipped through the cotton-poly blend, "I just really hate this shirt."

Don rolled his eyes, "Really, please Em... For once I wish you'd stop hiding your feelings and just be honest..." He winced as the fabric tugged away from his injury.

"So Ian..." Emily's mouth was twisted in a frown as she mopped up the excess blood off Don's shoulder. "You've got some pretty sweet timing," her eyes jumped to the still form a few feet away. "Coulda used you a little earlier though..."

He readjusted Don who had started to slide down the wall, "It's this funny thing. I'm sent out on assignment to track this guy," he waved his head towards Johnson. "Then finally when I catch up to him, someone forgot to mention that the special agent he took a hit out on is actually still alive. And when I get a clear shot, the aforementioned agent pulls a Joseph Marley that makes Dickens look bad, knocks the target out and makes me wonder if I'm stuck in some sorta really bad Ghostbusters sequel."

"You have to admit, they've got like the best theme song ever..." Don grunted again, "Sorry babe... Almost done." She finished wrapping his shoulder in gauze, then wrapped a tensor bandage around his arm and shoulder to immobilize it. Emily folded a receiving blanket to a triangle, creating a sling for his arm. "I know Mickey Mouse isn't exactly your style..."

"I think that's the funniest thing I've seen all day." Don gave a laugh, "Just don't call me Jimmie Dodd..."

"You don't want to be a Mouseketeer?" She motioned for Ian to help Don up, "I'd think you'd look cute with one of those little hats with the mouse ears..."

Ian's grip on Don slipped as the sniper tried to mask a chuckle as a cough. "He's going to be okay?"

Emily nodded as she held open the door. "Yeah, there's not much else that a hospital would be able to do. The bleeding's stopped. I'll keep an eye out for infection. But I would like to get him checked out sooner rather than later..."

He regained his hold and walked Don to the sofa. "Okay, you two wait in here... I'll take care of the rest..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Colby was scanning through his report one last time. After an intensive three week investigation, they had closed a series of thefts of high end paintings and art work. Most items were targeted from private collections and the one object that brought a smirk to Colby's face was a tribal mask from an exhibit at UCLA's Folwer Museum. _Looks like something outta Rocky Horror Picture Show..._

It turned out the museum's docent in training was also an aspiring thief in training who had watched Ocean's Twelve one too many times. He'd actually been fairly successful, until he got his hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar. _Or museum safe, either way..._ Unfortunately for him, this Linus Cadwell wannabe didn't have a mom in law enforcement who could bust him out of trouble.

He closed the file and tossed it back on his desk. When David wasn't around, Colby figured out he could lean back far enough to lay his head on his partner's desk and prop his feet up on his own at the same time. It was a rather precarious position and he would hate to be around if David ever found out, _but after jumping around crazy metal things labeled as art, I deserve a break..._

Megan rounded the corner, watched as the agent tried to steal a nap, "Hey Granger, if you turn in that report, maybe I'll let you go home."

The man didn't move a muscle, "Home? What's that?" He cracked his eyes open and raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had us all chained to our desks for the duration."

Megan laughed and playfully knocked his legs down from the desk with her foot. "Aww... now that's not fair, Reeves. Goin' all krav maga on me." He sat up, rubbed his hands over his face. "You telling the truth? 'Cause the moment you say yes, I'm hightailing it outta here."

Colby watched as the yes on Megan's lips morphed into a 'Yes sir, right away sir,' when her cell rang. He inwardly groaned. _Ours is not to question why..._ "No rest for the wicked..."

Megan snapped the cell shut. "That was Merrick. He wants to meet with us and David ASAP."

"Right now?" Colby was surprised. Normally a meeting with Merrick was scheduled ahead of time, unless there was a crisis. But as far as Colby knew, there was no crisis, the case was closed and this would be cutting into his eagerly anticipated surf time.

An exasperated expression that parents often use with small children and puppies crossed Megan's face. "No Granger, he wanted to meet with us _yesterday_." She patted him on the shoulders, "Of course now. What do ya think ASAP means?"

_Associated Surfers Anonymous - Pacific?_ Colby got up and followed her to the elevators, "Of course, Reeves. What was I thinking?"

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

It was two hours later when Edgerton was done cleaning up. After making contact with the local FBI, he called Tom Abrahams letting him know what had happened. Ian was relieved when Johnson was in custody and taken away. _He'd been chasing the guy for the last three months..._ The cabin door opened soundlessly, Ian slipped inside. Don and Emily were both half collapsed on the couch, asleep.

He marveled at Don's rumpled form. When he had got the news nearly a year ago that Don Eppes had been killed in an assassination, Ian had been livid. Because of what he did, he was on the road most of the time, didn't have a lot of close friends or a place where he truly felt at home. But he had worked with Eppes long enough to garner a mutual respect with the man and dare he think, a demented sort of friendship borne out of their criminal chasing careers.

Edgerton had been in Rosalyn, Washington when the news came through the gossip lines. He had managed to hunt down his target and bring him in before he had made it into Canada. But by then it was too late for him to make the funeral. He hadn't made it back to LA until a few months later. The Eppes were his first visit. He remembered how fiercely Don had protected his younger brother during that first sniper case they had worked together, and took it upon himself to keep an eye out for Charlie since Don was gone.

He never brought himself to the point where he could go to pay his respects. And now, looking at very much alive Don Eppes, Edgerton was glad he never did. _I wonder if little Eppes worked the odds of this kind of ending with that math voodoo of his ...  
_

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Colby stared at the red and yellow canvas hanging in the foyer outside Merrick's office. He couldn't help but wonder what the criminal docent would think of it. _Looks like something my three year old nephew could do..._ Another glance at his watch told him that David was running late and so was Merrick. _You'd think if the guy was calling us here for an urgent meeting he'd actually take the time to meet with us..._

"...No, I want the Bavarian creme frosting... Yes, white cake... No, not yellow cake. It can't be yellow cake."

Colby rolled his eyes. Megan had been on the phone ten minutes arguing with the bakery about her wedding cake. _It shouldn't be that hard, should it? Who can't understand white cake?_ Then he shook his head with a small grin. _It's crazy what that woman does for Fleinhardt..._

His thoughts were abruptly cut off by an exasperated sigh. "I've made this call I don't know how many times... It's getting to be ridiculous."

"Have ya ever tried getting Larry to give up on the whole white food thing?"

Megan fiddled with the folders on her lap, "He has... for the most part. It's just, I know this would mean a lot to him..."

Colby couldn't help but feel a little guilty with his line of questioning when he saw the pleading look on her face. He decided to throw her a line instead, "True, how many times do ya get married?" Megan gave him a grateful smile, "Where do ya think David is?"

"Right here..." A light sheen of sweat covered the agent's brow. "We got a few of the reports back from the coroner's office on the Miller case."

"Ah David... What have I said about mixing business with pleasure." David handed the reports to Megan, "By the way... How is Claudia?"

The African American agent blushed deeply. Before he could make a retort, Merrick poked his head out the office door. "Good, you're here."

The three agents stood up and walked through the door while Merrick held it open. He motioned for them to take a seat, then took a seat behind his desk. The older man looked uncharacteristically flustered, "Thank you for waiting. I just received some information that I think you'll find very interesting."

All three agents unconsciously leaned forward in their seats. "I know you're all aware that Agent Edgerton was assigned to the Johnson case a few months back." Colby could feel his gut clench. "He got him. Agent Edgerton had Johnson in custody as of an hour ago." A full smile covered his face, "It's finally over. We got him."


	26. Waiting for Godot

A/N - I just want you to know that you guys rock! The reviews have been fantastic and I end up doing a giddy song and dance every time I get another one. So thank you, thank you, thank you!

* * *

**_"Is that what you call giving cover?"_**

**_"Is that what you call running? If I knew you were going to stroll..."_**

_Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) to the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford), Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969_

* * *

Nederland Community Hospital was fairly small. Most of the serious cases were taken to Boulder or even Denver. There was enough business in Nederland to maintain a decent sized facility though. In the winter, skiers and snowboarders paraded through with broken limbs and hypothermia, in the spring and fall there was the occasional accidental hunting gunshot wounds, and summer... Well summer was a free for all with twisted ankles, stitches and whatever the local elementary school population managed to get themselves into. 

It was most definitely autumn.

Don let his head fall back on the gurney. The throb in his shoulder had muted down to a gentle pulsing. Hardly even noticeable, now. _Emily sure insisted on the good stuff..._ The doctor had come in a few minutes ago and said they'd release him soon. He knew the doctors had shuffled Emily off somewhere to check the baby, make sure that she didn't strain anything.

They had swapped his Mickey Mouse sling for a blue nylon one. At his request, they left him the baby blanket. He caressed the soft cotton, traced the outline of baby Mickey with his index finger. Don tried to remember who it came from. The ladies of Coronet had thrown Emily a baby shower two weeks ago. The men had taken Don out fishing.

It had been a fun day, it had felt so regular and so beautifully normal. And for once he felt like a normal guy with a normal family. There was no evil bad guy, no younger brother genius to be compared to, absolutely nothing lurking over his shoulder. _And it felt so good._ It reminded him of college and his baseball days, where he was himself and had no one's expectations to live up to but his own.

Don hated himself for thinking that way, for feeling that about Charlie. _But isn't that what he talked about with Bradford? That it always boiled down to Charlie's genius and Don's sacrifices to it? _He shook his head, tried to clear his thoughts. _Not a time to do deep soul searching when you're all strung out on percocet. _

There was a lurching in his stomach as he caught sight of a brownish red clotting on the white background of the blanket. He flipped his legs over the side of the gurney, shoved the curtain aside and raced to the sink.

Margaret always said that he had a knack with timing and that was no less true this time around, for which Don was eternally grateful. After a few nasty moments, Don rinsed his mouth with water, inwardly wincing at the jostle to his injured arm. He leaned up against the wall, the blanket still in his hand. The blanket folded small enough to slip in his cargo pocket. _You're gonna be a father. Is this what you want to have to worry about every time you go to work?_

He took a few deep breaths, _inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. _A quick glance in the mirror told him he looked like crap, _but who'd look like Beau Brummell after the day I've had?_ A dampened paper towel took care of the dirty smudges on his face and Don ran wet fingers through his hair to tame the unruly mess.

It wasn't easy working his way back on the gurney one handed, but Don managed. He was just about to give into sleep when there was a tentative knock on the door frame. "Mr. Cohen?" He blinked his eyes and a nurse crossed the floor next to his head. _It no longer surprised him at how easily he responded to his fake name, sometimes Don Eppes didn't even register anymore... _

"Joel... your wife wants you."

Don's eyes shot open at that, "She's... she's alright...?"

The older woman had a kind smile, "Yes, she's fine and the baby's heartbeat sounds nice and strong. Doctor Gillis was just about to do a sonogram and Mrs. Cohen thought you might want a peek."

"Yeah, I do..." He gave an eager grin that melted to a surprised confusion when his legs nearly gave way under him.

The nurse caught him and held him steady, despite her small stature. Just then, Ian Edgerton walked back in the room, "You trying to break out already?"

The nurse motioned for Ian to come and give her a hand. Edgerton gripped Don's waist and the woman left. "Seems like all I'm doing today is hauling around your ass."

"Boy, and I'm sure glad you are..." The two men exchanged a significant look. Both were not men of many words, instead they understood each other on a more subliminal level. One where words, which could be so often empty, were not necessary.

Edgerton wasn't a spiritual man. Years on the field: Iraq, the first time around, Afghanistan, a stint in South Africa. Many long years manhunting had driven the sense of the divine out of him. But there was something about seeing Don, watching him... _It was a freakin' miracle..._ When he was young, very young, his grandmother would bring him to church on Easter. And each person would great each other with _"He is risen"_ and respond in kind with _"He is risen, indeed."_

Ian chuckled. _Leave it to Don Eppes to play Jesus Christ Superstar..._

The nurse returned a moment later with a wheelchair, "Mr. Cohen, with the combined blood loss and the medication, it'd probably be safer for you to use this."

Don reluctantly nodded his head. Ian helped him down and with a slight movement, motioned to the nurse that he'd take Don wherever he needed to go. _There was no way in hell he was going to let Don disappear now..._

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Colby, Megan and David all sat huddled in a large booth, towards the back of Clauddagh's, an Irish pub, that was not far from the FBI offices. It was a restaurant that Don had all taken them too when they first joined his team. Eventually, it had become one of their most favorite after work hang outs. _They hadn't been there in nearly a year..._

Megan had requested Merrick that the team could give the news to the Eppes. He agreed and so Colby had called Alan and Charlie, asked them to meet them at the pub.

And now, Megan sat nervously, swirling the remaining coke in the bottom heavy glass. David had ordered a pitcher of Crop Circle Wheat, but she knew with the way her stomach was doing nervous hops up and down, there was no way she'd be able to keep alcohol in her system. She wasn't quite ready to lose her control or composure... yet. After all, there was a twelve year old bottle of scotch waiting for her at home.

She was surprised to see not only Alan and Charlie work their way towards them, but Larry and Amita as well. She pushed the straw to the bottom of the glass and hurriedly sucked down whatever watery carbonation remained.

The group in motion waved to the group at the table. It was one of those not-quite-a-horseshoe-not-really-a-circle sort of booth._ It made her think of Johnny Cash and his ring of fire. _Colby slid out of his seat next to Megan and let Larry take the seat next to her. Megan smiled at this. _She didn't even have to ask._ Alan, Charlie and Amita all piled in on the other side of the table. Everyone was making small talk and smiling, Larry discreetly massaged her hand.

The waitress came by, and they all made their orders. Megan thought she ordered the pub burger and wasn't entirely sure that she had until it landed in front of her face. Larry continued to sweetly rub her hand, giving her a concerned look at her lack of verbal participation. Colby and David were giving her nervous glances and even though she didn't really have the words to say it, _but she had to anyways because Don was one of theirs. And when something happens to one of theirs, she couldn't shuffle responsibility off on anyone else. _

She cleared her throat, "Alan, Charlie... We got some news today..." _Yeah, that sounds real professional Reeves. Did they teach you that in preschool or something?_ Megan scanned their faces, wished that there wasn't such an audience, "Merrick informed us that... Ian Edgerton apprehended Johnson today."

Charlie dropped his steak fry and Alan froze like a deer in headlights. Megan didn't even bother looking at Amita or Larry for their reactions. But vaguely somewhere she thought she heard a whispered _oh my God..._

"Oh, wow..." Charlie had found the fry and started tracing it through the puddle of ketchup on his plate. "So, its over?" His voice to on a hopeful tone. He sounded so childlike and innocent in that moment.

David, who ended up next to Charlie, nodded slowly, "Yeah, Charlie. It's over. There was the large raid in Phoenix and now that they have Johnson, it's all over."

Alan looked like he was ready to cry, then he excused himself from the table and Charlie chased after him. The two men disappeared from sight down the hallway that lead to the required bathrooms and pay phone.

_And then there were five..._

Megan mentally berated herself for not just visiting the two of them at home. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, go to dinner and celebrate the arrest. _Great, you're a psych-analyst and you forget the very obvious emotional reaction this was bound to trigger._

_ Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Charlie found Alan pacing in the bathroom. He took four steps, pivoted, and then another four steps again. Alan made two more rounds before noticing Charlie. And when he finally did look up, there was a huge grin plastered on his face. Charlie could feel one twitching on his own. "You feeling okay, _Grandpa?_"

"It's over, Charlie..." Alan placed his hands on Charlie's shoulders and drew his son into a tight embrace, "It's finally over..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Edgerton patiently waited outside the closed door. He had wheeled Don in there twenty minutes ago and he was really starting to hope that there was nothing a matter, _'cause they're really taking their sweet time... _He glanced down the hall as a familiar figure approached. "Why you son of a... How long has it been?"

Tom Abrahams let out a low, throaty chuckle, "Apparently not long enough." They regarded each other for a moment. "How are they doing?" The Marshal motioned at the door.

Ian gave a sigh and motioned at the chairs across from them. "Eppes got it pretty bad in the shoulder, he's gonna be fine though. Emily seems to be okay too, but they've been in that room an awfully long time." He wove his fingers together behind his head, stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. "Why in the hell wasn't I told Eppes was alive? I coulda killed him back there..."

Abrahams shrugged his shoulders, "Wasn't my call. Go yell at the USDA if you want."

"Who else knows?"

"Not many, that's for sure." Tom propped his elbows on his knees, "There's Merrick, the USDA, Harvey, the Eppes, myself and now you."

Edgerton nodded absently then jerked his head up suddenly, "Wait a minute. You're telling me the Eppes were in on this thing? They've known this whole time?"

"Kinda hard to believe, isn't it? They did good." The Marshal got up suddenly, "Is there coffee around here somewhere?" He had taken a non-stop flight the moment he got the call from Ian several hours ago and was starting to feel the aftereffects.

"Yeah, there's a vending machine around the corner on the left..." There was a question in Ian's voice that caused Tom to pause, "Just tell me why they broke SOP by telling them."

Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "They just lost a wife and mother, didn't think they'd survive the loss of a son as well."


	27. It's All Over and I'm Standing Pretty

A/N - Sorry about the delay with the update. Holidays and work can really slow a writer down... Now onto the fun!

One slight note, I received some questions about what USDA stood for. Despite my fervant love of the US Department of Agriculture, Tom Abrahams was referring Ian's complaints to the United States District Attorney.

_Numb3rs...Numbers...Numbers...**  
**_

_**I have the time so I will sing**_

_**I'm just a boy but I will win**_

_**Lost song of lovers, fellow travelers**_

_**Leave me sad and hollow out of words**_

_**It could happen to you so think for yourself**_

_**If I should stumble, Catch my fall...**_

_Catch My Fall, Billy Idol_

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Don studied the bulletin board by the door. There was a notice for a missing dog, an offer for second hand skis and it looked like Danny Eckworth was looking for odd jobs to do around town. He pulled down the sign for Coronet's annual Paddy's Day celebration as well as the opportunity to sublease Jenna Rich's apartment while she took off on six month journey to "find" herself. _Coronet is a lot of things, and strange and peculiar are definitely on the list._

They were getting towards the tail end of the ski season. _Thank you, God..._ He honestly had never been so exhausted before in his life. Even when he was working weeks at a time at the FBI. _There at least he could shoot the bad guys..._

Instead, he had spent most his day responding to an emergency call from a couple of B-list Hollywood actors had got lost on their way down the mountain. Fog had caused visibility to drop to almost nothing and they ended up outside the ski boundaries. _Crazy bunch of newbies..._

Don glanced down at his watch. It was almost seven. _Let's get this show on the road... _He could hear Emily and Hannah in the back room. "Hey ladies..." He found the two women laughing, Hannah collapsed on the green velveteen sofa and Emily leaning against boxes of fishing line.

"Honey, guess what we have to do this weekend!" Emily was wiping her face and her eyes glowed with something.

"You're not actually going to make me guess, are you?"

Before she could respond, Johnson and the Frank Miller-look-alike entered the room, shot guns pointed at Emily's and Hannah's heads. They didn't say a word, merely shoved Don to the floor.

He tried to move, tried to stop them but his legs and arms wouldn't work. His voice froze in his throat. The world went black and white, the only color coming from the blood that seeped from Hannah's forehead where a neat, small bullet made entry.

The two men had left, preceded by another gunshot and now he could see Emily gasping on the floor, more vivid red blood stained the front of her blouse. Don's fingers could move now and he somehow grabbed hold of her hand. Her fingers were like ice and air rattled in her lungs.

She looked at him with a sweet smile and then her eyes closed. Don could move now and he lept up and held her body in his arms. He was crying and there was nothing he could do...

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Consciousness came back slowly, cruelly. Don became aware that he wasn't holding Emily's dead body, that she was lying next to him, breathing softly and shifting in her sleep. His left hand rested beneath her belly and he could feel warmth there. _Life there..._

Don sat up cautiously, didn't want to wake her. His shirt was damp with sweat and his shoulder ached, from being trapped in the sling or from the actual bullet wound, he wasn't sure. He slid from under the covers and Emily, still deep in sleep, felt for him. This brought a smile to his face so Don gently kissed her and her breathing evened out peacefully.

They had arrived in LA that morning. It had been a three hour flight back with a rather conspicuous group consisting of a wounded man and a pregnant woman both zealously guarded by Ian Edgerton and Tom Abrahams. James Harvey had met them at the small airstrip just outside of Santa Monica. It was a quick jaunt to Emily's house in Venice. The protection guard had left them there, told them they'd talk to them later.

Emily cried when they let her in and she found everything, aside from a mound of boxes that was Don's stuff, as it was a year ago. She went through her book shelves, caressing the books and mementos, found herself slightly depressed when she realized she wouldn't be able to wear anything in her closet. Don found himself searching through his baseball memorabilia and the other random tidbits that were his life that he had left behind.

They repacked a couple of duffle bags, dusted off Emily's yellow Jeep and drove to Pasadena. The drive was incredible, it was freedom and exhilaration all rolled into one. They went past Grauman's Chinese theatre, through downtown LA, and on northwesternly course to an old Craftsman house in an old fashion neighborhood. They pulled in the driveway, walked to the front door and rang the bell repeatedly, shouting something about a "special delivery."

Alan answered the door, not really paying attention to who was there because he was to busy yelling at the person on the other end of the line. They stood there in stasis for several minutes, Don and Emily snickering while Alan was arguing. Then he hung up and dropped his phone. They all stared at each other for the longest time. Alan, seemingly recovered, snarked, "Well, it's about time you showed up."

It was a slow day, Alan called Charlie home from CalSci, told him that _Operation Shane: Come Back_ officially commenced. And they spent most the day talking and playing cards. Don waved off Alan's fussings over his arm and Emily feigned a minor crisis so he could escape attention. Don shot her a grateful look and she mouthed, "you owe me big." There were steaks for dinner and it finally felt like life was ready to move forward.

Charlie had Don's old bedroom ready from the night they heard the new from Megan. He figured it would be a little while before Don and Emily would come back, but he wanted to be ready. He cleared out the math mess that he allowed to accumulate in there and placed fresh bedding down. He was pleased when he saw the look of surprise on his brother's face. And when Don helped Emily climb the stairs that night, Charlie couldn't help but feel that Journey had it right when they said _don't stop believin'._

The hallway was so familiar. Don could close his eyes and know that the photo of Alan and Margaret at Knoxberry farm was directly above one of Charlie and Larry at Princeton. Staggered between them and off to the side was one of himself, in full swing, at his opening game with the Stockton Rangers. By the doorway of the bathroom, was a picture of Charlie and Don canoing somewhere in the Sangre de Cristo mountains the summer before they both left for college. Don touched the lower left hand corner of the frame like he always did before entering.

He was expecting to see the brown walls, so very dated, but even after being at Charlie's for a day was still surprised to see the re-tiled bathroom done in a sky blue. He bent over the sink and turned the water on with his shaking hands. The prescription bottle was almost impossible to open one handed and the pills spilled out on the counter when he finally managed to. He tried to dry swallow, but he had to rinse it down with water when it caught in his throat.

The ceramic tub was cool and he lowered himself down on the edge, running his one good hand through his hair. The nightmares were getting worse if he was being honest. _Then again, when was he ever honest with himself? _And Don was nervous now. Charlie and Alan were hosting a welcome home cook out sometime tomorrow. They had wanted it to be a huge party, family, acquaintances, probably the whole damn media circus if they had their way. But Don had insisted on small, very small. Just his team, Larry and Amita. _No way was he going to be responsible for giving heart attacks to half of Los Angeles... Though maybe having the paramedics on hand wouldn't be a bad idea..._

Don wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, thinking. But he started to feel drowsy, knew the drug was working through his system. Don knew he should go back before he fell asleep in the tub. He pushed himself off and meandered his way back to his room.

He didn't notice the door to his father's bedroom was open, didn't notice his father watching him with tears slipping from his eyes. _Good night, Donny-boy..._

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Alan glanced up at the stairs again. It was a little after nine in the morning and still only he and Charlie were up. He had thought that maybe Don and Emily would be up by now, then his mind flitted to his son's late night wanderings and how maybe he was suffering some sort of jet lag, insomnia... some sort of something...

The back door slammed and Charlie came bounding through with last minute groceries. "Hey, Dad... Where's Don?"

Alan pointed upstairs and made a shushing gesture with his index finger, "They're still out for the count."

"And Don always gave me a hard time for sleeping in..."

The kitchen door opened and in stumbled a bleary-eyed Emily, stomach protruding from a gray bathrobe, "Yeah Charlie, but I doubt you drugged yourself to the eyeballs with oxycodone when you were little." She walked to the sink, snagging a glass on the way, "And if I remember correctly, you weren't up much earlier when you were at our place..."

"Why you're awfully chipper in the morning," Alan drawled.

She threw him a smile, "You've never had a baby kicking you in the ribs before, have you?"

Charlie looked worried, "Don's okay, right? I mean he didn't..."

Emily laughed, "He's fine... in the shower as we speak." She paused, sniffing the air, "That's coffee, isn't it? Sumatra roast..." There was another slight lasp, "It's decaf, right?"

Alan handed her a mug, "You betcha."

"I think I love you, Alan..." Emily sighed deeply and took a long draught.

The kitchen door swung again, "You better not be hitting on my father, Em. That's just not right..." Don came through the entryway. He was bare chested, clutching the sling and bandages in his left hand. His hair was still damp and there was a smile on his face, a slight twinkle in his eye. That didn't disguise the dark circles and the unnatural pallor to his complexion. Alan chewed the inside of his cheek when he caught sight of the angry red scar, not quite hidden by the t-shirt Don had flung over his shoulder.

"Could you..." Don held out the supplies to Emily, who gave a quick nod, took the gauze in one hand and the coffee in the other.

"Sure, hon."

They excused themselves to the bathroom where Don sat on the closed toilet lid and Emily shut the door. She worked in silence, carefully checking for signs of infection, applying salve, and re-wrapping the shoulder. Don gritted his teeth as she helped him slip the t-shirt and the sling on. Emily didn't say anything when she saw it was a shirt from their store. _Not really ours anymore..._

"You want to take something to take the edge off?" Emily knew him well enough that he'd refuse anything stronger than a mild pain reliever, especially after taking a stronger dose the night before. "Are you sleeping okay?"

Don nodded and she rifled through the medicine cabinet. "Yeah, getting a little tired of..." He stammered, "...j-just being so tired." He got up and walked to where Emily stood. She pressed some pills in his hand and he decided that he was sick of medication. He threw them back, followed by a tap water chaser, and rubbed at the beard. Don threw a rueful glance at his right arm in the sling and then turned to Emily, "You wouldn't mind..."

"Of course not." She motioned for him to take a seat and she again went through the cabinets and drawers, pulling out a razor and shaving cream. "You know, I could have some real fun with this..." Emily gave him a wicked grin, "How do you feel about handle bar moustaches?"

There was a hair trimming scissors in the upper right hand drawer of the vanity. Emily set to work on his face, gently removing the brunt of the thick growth. Don marveled at her soft touch, the awkward fit of the baby bump against his chest. The moment was interrupted when there was a hesitant knock and the door cracked open slightly, "Are you okay in there?"

_Charlie..._

Emily didn't turn around or even pause, "Yeah, just playing barbershop."

The younger Eppes took that to be an invitation and perched on the edge of the claw-footed tub. Neither Don or Emily noticed him, so he sat there and watched her work. It was if time melted away and instead of watching his older brother and his wife, Charlie saw his mother and his father. _But he never remembered Margaret shaving Alan..._ He could hear her singing softly. _Ninety-nine Red Balloons?_

Charlie chuckled softly at that. He saw Don raise his eyebrows, realizing his presence. In a moment of brother to brother telepathy, Don spoke, "That's nothing. She can sing it in German too."

"Is there some sort of convention going on in here?" Alan was wiping his hands on a already wet kitchen towel. Emily rinsed the razor off in the sink, continued scraping away stubble. "Good, you're finally getting rid of that scruffy thing." He plopped unannouced on the tub next to Charlie and preceeded to argue with him about the quality of salad dressings and how he should never let Charlie run to the store for him ever again.

Right then, Don Eppes knew he was finally home.

* * *

A/N - I know you're all eagerly awaiting Don's reunion with the FBI team. And I promise it's coming. I originally intended it to happen in this chapter, but again the characters had minds of their own and took it in a slightly different direction. 


	28. I Do Believe in Spooks

A/N - Sorry that I haven't updated this sooner. I've been having troubles with this crazy website. But a big shout out to briebydeb for the posting tip!

* * *

_**"Which way?"**_

_**"It doesn't matter. I don't know where we've been and I've just been there..."**_

_Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) to the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford). Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969._

* * *

Walter Merrick considered himself a fairly strong-willed, competent and authoritative individual. After a stint in the Marine Corp and twenty years at the Bureau, there wasn't a whole lot that he hadn't seen, experienced or at least read about in various reports that filtered across his desk. He had gone on raids, covert ops, faced the bad guys down with guns and won. _He was, after all, Assistant Director of the LA field office._

As he hung the phone back on the cradle, he wasn't ashamed to admit that this next conference was scaring the _crap_ out of him.

There was a meeting with the District Attorney's office earlier. They determined that there were no risks to Don and Emily Eppes since the Johnson arrest. So Merrick had been cleared to get the word circulating that Eppes was alive. Not long after that, there was a phone call from Don himself to warn Merrick to fill his old team in before they got the shock of their lives over dinner this evening. _It's not that I think that highly of myself, but people usually just don't rise from the dead..._

As the office door opened and Agents Reeves, Sinclair and Granger walked in, Merrick started to wonder if this was maybe how a _dead man walking_ feels. "Thank you for coming in on such short notice."

"Seems to becoming a habit, lately," Colby drawled. Merrick bit his lip as he watched Megan stare the junior agent down. _It's like a grade school here..._

"Well, I think this may be the last one for a while," _because you'll most likely kill me when you find out the information that I've been withholding._

He circled the desk, three copies of a file in one hand. "I have here Agent Edgerton's report. I think you'll find it interesting and informative."

The agents were intrigued, he could tell. Agent Reeves flipped through the pages the quickest, froze exactly when he thought she would. Granger and Sinclair weren't far behind. Merrick studied their faces, there was a nervous twitching of the jaw, a rapid thumping of a heel to the floor. _Three, two... and one..._

"What the hell is this Merrick?" Walt was surprised the outburst came from Sinclair. He had always struck the Assistant Director as the more calm, less brash of the FBI's version of Crockett and Tubbs. "Is this saying what I think it is?"

He thought back to the phone call he received from Tom Abrahams a year ago and the halfway frantic one from Megan Reeves later on that night. There were times when he had been certain the team would fall apart, _and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it._ Merrick had been particularly concerned about Sinclair. It was hard to lose a co-worker, a fellow agent. _But Sinclair had been working with Eppes the longest, and was perhaps the closest to him._

David Sinclair had put in for assignment to the LA field office after an extensive posting in Tel Aviv, Israel around the same time that Don Eppes had transferred in from New Mexico. The last thing that Merrick wanted or needed was a power struggle so he assigned the junior agent to ascertain the new SAC's intentions. _It's usually a bad career move to go down from heading your own field office to working under someone else..._

That had resulted in a confrontation, a Mexican standoff that could have easily blown up in their faces. Merrick, currently seated in the same place that he had that afternoon, let a smile tug at his lips as he remembered Don strong-arming his way past his secretary with a rather green looking Sinclair following behind. The two men were able to work out their differences though, resulting in a reprieve that David had called his Geneva Convention.

Merrick looked at Sinclair unflinchingly, "Yes, it is."

Megan Reeves sharply inhaled, "Oh my God... Don's alive..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Don rubbed his freshly shaven face appreciatively, then turned his attention to Charlie scribbling away at his chalkboard. He tried to remember the last time he was out here with his brother. It had been the night before that evening in Venice. Don hadn't returned to work yet and sat sipping Rolling Rock and watching Charlie work.

The garage really hadn't changed in the past year. _But he had..._ The old green sofa was still there, as were the chalkboards and piles of notebooks. Don had wandered in after lunch. Emily laid down for a nap, Alan was working on a potato salad for this evening, Charlie was in the garage, _and God's in his heaven, all's right with the world..._

If he was a betting man like his father, Don would lay pretty good odds down that Charlie was working on his Cognitive Something or Other Theory. _Was it really possible to miss the smell of chalk?_ His brother paused in front of an equation for several minutes, his head cocked to the side, chalk pressed to his lips in concentration. Then Charlie was at it again, trying to write as fast as his brain was processing. Don supressed a smirk when he saw the white mark left on his face.

He slumped down in the sofa. It had been such a hetic week and it was finally starting to catch up to him. Don let his eyes close and his breathing evened out in a rhythm to the staccato of chalk on the board. It was kind of nice to drift alon gin this languid semi-conscious state. He was relaxed and his nightmares couldn't touch him here.

There were some voices in the background. He was aware of Charlie talking to someone, a female someone. _Emily?_ He smiled contentedly, decided he like the idea of his wife in the garage. But instead of Em's soft hand against his forehead, there was a loud shriek and a crash. Don threw himself upright and tumbled off the couch at the sight of two terrified, familiar faces.

_This is bad, very, very bad... This is so now how I wanted this to go down..._ Larry lay sprawled against the desk, rubbing his head, mouth agape. Amita stood frozen, pointing accusingly at him while Charlie gently tried to lower her arms.

There was a time, several years ago now, a little while after Don had first met Larry. He was struck by the physicist's verbosity and insight, though initially he had a hard time looking past the frumpy clothes and constantly rumpled hair. Don remembered wondering if there was any topic that could stump the man. _Apparently this was it..._

The shoulder started screaming at him after he caught it on the edge of the couch. He tried to bite back a grimace, but Charlie must have gotten better at reading him because there he was in a flash helping him back up. "You okay, Don?" He nodded and gritted his teeth as Charlie lay a heavy hand on his right side.

Don smiled weakly, afraid to move and absolutely freaked that he would scare them even worse. "Hey, guys..."

That seemed to wake the two professors from their shock, and in a slightly more realistic version of one of Don's worst childhood nightmares, he was rushed by three math geeks all at once.

"Don, you're alive..."

"Let me assist you."

"Can I get you your meds or something?"

For all intents and purposes, Don felt like he was drowning. He tried to shrug off the constant wave of hands that flitted over him and failed amazingly until Emily, in all her beginning-of-the-third-trimester glory, wandered in, "Hey G-Man, are you okay?"

Alan Eppes was well known for his papa bear routine. But Charlie felt that Emily had elevated it to an art form. Outwardly, she was calm, almost lax. There was no freaking out or unnecessary hovering. _Perhaps that's why she and Don got on so well..._ Yet he could detect tension and worry, nothing passed by unnoticed. _Consequences of the past year..._

"What's going on, Charlie?"

"He got startled and knocked his arm a little..." Charlie trailed off as she ignored him, murmured some questions to Don about his shoulder, carefully lifted his shirt to check for any damage.

"I think you tore one of your stitches. I'd like to get a better look in the house," Don gingerly stood up and laid his free arm around her. Charlie watched jealously as the two escaped to the Craftsman, wishing he could go along with them.

"Charles... What just happened here?" Larry collapsed uncertainly on the sofa, his voice soft and barely controlled. "Have you discovered a solution to Einstein's Theory of Relativity in regards to closed timelike curves in spacetime?"

"No time traveling, Larry," Charlie began pacing in front of his stunned friends. "Let me tell you a story that you're probably not going to believe."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

For the second time that day, Don found himself sitting on the toliet lid as Emily re-bandaged his shoulder. "Have I ever told you that you have the best timing ever?"

Emily glanced up, "I had a feeling that you might need some rescuing. Your dad told me that Larry and Amita were headed out there..." She gave him a sympathetic smile, "Didn't go so well?"

"That's an understatement..." Don sighed, "I don't know if I can do this, Em. I thought I could..." He ran his hand through his now-short hair, "How much would it take to get you to drive us back to Colorado?"

"You're going chicken on me?" She adjusted the sling, "Running from Johnson, I could handle. But we're not going anywhere... You're dad scares the crap out of me..."

A chuckled escaped Don's lips, "Preaching to the choir, sister."

"Sister? I'm your wife, remember?" Emily grabbed his head, peered at his eyes, "Maybe you have a concussion..." All joking died on her lips, "Really Don, we'll get through this."

"Yeah? When did you get so smart?"

"When did you start listening?" She smiled and rumpled his hair, "It's like that Mary Tyler Moore song said, we're gonna make it after all."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Don and Emily walked into the living room, giving pause when they saw Larry and Amita. It was then Don realized why he was so nervous. Of course he hadn't done all this on purpose, caused such grief and heartache, but he was so afraid that these, his friends, would hold it against him.

Don felt himself unconsciously stiffen as Larry approached. _Great, now physicists scare you... Way to go, Eppes..._ He felt Emily's hand on the small of his back, could feel his eyes moisten as Larry spoke, "It's good to have you back, my friend."

Don nodded, afraid of his voice. The smaller man uncharacteristically drew him in a hug, then stepped back almost as quickly. "Long time, no see, huh?"

Larry laughed at that. Don felt relief flood through him as Amita as well, tightly embraced him. He held back his instinctive reaction to recoil from the pressure on his arm, and held it back well.

"Well, now isn't this nice?" Alan unknowingly broke the steadily growing tension in the room. It was hard to be worried when there was a smile on his Dad's face that could have rivaled the Grand Canyon for sheer size and depth. _Maybe we just might make it after all..._

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

There was laughter coming from the backyard. The distinctive odor of charcoal mingled with the smell of fresh cut grass. Salsa music set the syncopation in the background and there were tiki torches and white lights twinkling in the sunset.

The three FBI agents slowly approached the house, skipping the front door and headed down the driveway towards the garage. Megan saw her fiancee deeply reclined in an Adirondack chair on the patio, animatedly talking to someone in another chair whose back was to her.

Alan came out, carrying a plate heaped with something, nearly knocked from his arms as Charlie rushed by trying to help a rather pregnant looking woman. "It's hamburger buns, Charlie. I think I can carry hamburger buns..." She gave up as the mathematician tugged the bags from her hands. The woman leaned over the chair next to Larry's, "Can I get you something, darlin'?"

Megan felt her hands seeking out the strength of her teammates arms as a familiar figure rose from the chair and twirled the woman around in rhythm to _Sonido Bestial y su Orquesta._ Megan felt like a voyeur for starring at such a private moment. _But there he was, Don really is alive..._

Larry saw here then, called the three of them over. Megan wasn't certain if she was floating or if maybe David and Colby were dragging her over. Knots from when she had first read Edgerton's report, and some from a year ago were finally untying themselves deep in her gut.

Don noticed them, stepped down with the woman on his arm. _That's Emily, from the report. Merrick said he was married..._ He gave them a hesitant smile, a nervous energy filtered through the air, _after all, what do you say after something like this?_

Megan was shocked to realize that Don was _terrified_. She had seen the man hold his own in more shoot-outs than she wanted to count. But there he was, clutching his wife's hand like a kid on his first day of school, begging that they'd still be his friends.

Colby broke the silence, "Good to have ya back, Don. Just in time too. Megan here is still looking for a ring bearer..."

Megan sighed in relief. _She never thought she'd see that million watt grin ever again..._ "Yeah Don, how do you feel about pink cumberbuns?"


	29. There's No Place Like Home

A/N - Thanks all for your wonderful reviews...

I have a question... I haven't been receiving reviews or (presuemably) pm's to my email address since Monday. Am I the only one?

(Please leave a review and don't pm me, 'cause well... I won't get it!)

Slight spoilers for 'The Mole'

* * *

**_"As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts can never be practical until they are made unbreakable."_**

**_"But I still want one."  
_**

_The Wizard of Oz (Frank Morgan) to the Tin Man (Jack Haley), The Wizard of Oz__, 1939._

* * *

Colby couldn't help himself. He tried not to stare. He really did. 

It's just, he couldn't help himself...

_He finally found something that topped Megan and Larry's unlikely romance..._

After Megan had finally let Don go and after he and David had given him a brief _manly _hug, there were stumbled introductions between the FBI team and Emily. Unfortunately, the couple was so use to referring to the other with their false identities in a group, other than just the two of them, that it took awhile to learn her name was Emily and not Nina and that Joel wasn't some invisible man but Don's alter ego. _Superheros had alter egos..._

The last year had been an emotional rollercoaster that he thought he'd left behind in Afghanistan. A lot of people assumed or accused him of being too simple, of being the continual wiseass. _He had lost too many friends not to have some sort of coping mechanism..._ Duane Carter had been a low point, his old army buddy turned international spy. The consequences were nearly even worse, with Don _this close_ to kicking him out of the FBI and straight to prison.

_And then Don died..._ Those first several months after had been somewhat of a blur to Colby now. He had learned to function on autopilot when necessary, so that is what he did. After a time, things became acceptable, _he was reluctant to admit normal. _He'd met a nice girl while surfing and they'd kept each other company. _Now maybe he'd let things get more serious with Becky..._

Granger could easily guess that he was still somewhat in shock. The marriage hadn't surprised him. David had pulled up a marriage license for a Don and Emily Eppes when they were checking through his files. Colby had to admit that it smarted to learn that his boss would just up and marry without telling even his father and brother, much less his team. The truth took the sting out of it... A little...

The name game between Don and Emily wasn't what had thrown him for a loop. Hell, even Don being alive hadn't shocked him that badly. _It was that damn bump underneath that yellow sundress..._

"Joel... Don..." Emily shifted uncomfortably under Colby's scrutiny. "He's doing it again..."

Don turned his head from David to Colby and soundly smacked his friend upside the head, "Cut it out, Granger. You're freaking her out."

The FBI agent had enough good sense to at least look contrite.

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

The night air was surprisingly warm. In fact, everything was warm. Even at the end of September... _Not in Colorado... _Emily winced as the water from the faucet came on too hot. The cold water wasn't much better. _Baby, you are doing a number on momma's bladder... _She dried her hands on the rich blue towels, smiling at the small, embroidered dolphins along the edge. Wondered if it was Charlie or Alan who picked them out, _maybe Amita?_

Flip flops waited on the tile floor where she kicked them off. _A decision she was most decidedly regretting now... _It was a simple matter of physics. When she tried to slip them back on, they wedged under the bottom of the vanity. Unfortunately her feet were steadily disappearing under a prenatal eclipse and could much less, bend over. Emily huffed in frustration, leaving the shoes where they were.

The hall was dim, the party still carrying on downstairs. The solarium lights were on, peaking around the door, beckoning her. Emily slipped in the room and dropped on the large arm chair. She absolutely loved the chair. It was a dark green and had pillows with a lovely suede feel to it. But the best part... The best part was the huge, rectangular ottoman that she happily dropped her feet onto. _Not that she'd be able to climb out of it by herself... Someone would definitely have to rescue her...  
_

The fish tank was directly in her line of view. Alan had brought her upstairs earlier the day before and proudly showed it to her. It was sparkling clean, like in 'Finding Nemo' with that crazy laser filter but without the dazed looking fish. He hadn't said much, other than _thank you_. But he didn't need expound because she understood what he meant. _Though fish hardly can take the place of a son..._

Emily didn't realize that she had dozed off until she heard the door open and a, "Oh gosh, I'm sorry..."

Amita looked spooked. Emily waved her in, "Care to go fish gazing with me?" The other woman gave a small smile and sat at the edge of the ottoman, eyes fixed unseeingly on the sailfin molly. They simply sat for a while in an awkward silence.

During those three weeks in Colorado, Emily had got to know Charlie and Alan fairly well. It had been a bit strange at first, their only connection being Don. After a time though, it seemed like they had always known each other, belonged together. Alan told her about Margaret and the necklace. Charlie had shyly spilled his guts about Amita, seeking a female's opinion, begging her to not say anything to his father. _Dad was right, Emmy, we should have had a sister... _

Emily found that Charlie idolized her, elevated her to a level of a Victoria's Secret Math Model. _Never thought those words would ever be in the same sentence..._ But instead of a math bimbo, _again, more words that were opposite in nature... _Emily figured that she most decidedly liked Amita. She wasn't a pushover, wasn't some wishy-washy girl with no opinion. There was a spark, a fire in her eye after she and Don had left the garage. _Emily rather felt sorry for leaving Charlie to deal with the aftermath..._ Then she smiled at the little pun.

"I know Charlie couldn't tell me..."

Emily silently nodded, unsure of what to say. Unsure of what the other was thinking.

"I get now why he didn't fall apart." She furiously rubbed away tears that had yet to fall. "I was so worried for the longest time that he would, that'd he completely lose himself..." There was a slight tinge of bitterness in her laughter, "Then when push comes to shove, I was the one who nearly did."

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered.

The words were so familiar lately. She had called a friend she had worked with at the hospital a year before just this morning. Allison had hung up immediately after cursing her out and screaming that these sort of prank calls were in terrible taste. So Emily had simply given up. She had Don, the baby, and Don's family. _That would be enough for her..._ But she couldn't deny that she missed Hannah and Annabelle intensely. _Maybe we could go back, after the baby's born..._

"You have nothing to be sorry for," The professor started. "I know this wasn't you're doing and I can't even imagine what you and Don have been through this past year..." Amita sighed, "I just... need a little time. That's all..."

"Fair enough..." Emily studied her for a long moment and shifted in the chair, realizing that her comfort was drastically decreasing as the pregnancy steadily worked its way towards the finish line. "You have unique insight into the Brothers Eppes, Amita. Care to fill me in?"

"It's about time another woman came around, I've been outnumbered for so long." This time, Amita's laughter was genuine and happy, "What do you want to know...?"

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Don knew he was screwed the moment Charlie waltzed out with several decks of cards. "Gin Rummy, anyone?" He looked around for Emily, _anyone_, to come and stop the probable slaughter. Because really, gin rummy was about numbers and patterns. And as they all knew, Charlie kicked Donald Duck's ass right outta Mathmagic Land and had himself crowned king. _A regular kind-hearted despot, that one is..._

Something must have changed while he'd been gone. _Okay, almost everything's changed..._ The FBI contingency helped Alan clear the table of food, making Don stay where he was, _You're injured, play it up while you have the chance. _It was done in record time. Alan, Charlie and David pulled extra chairs up while Colby grabbed the decks and started shuffling.

_He had fallen through the rabbit hole and this was Wonderland... Maybe a tea party's next..._

Don carefully picked his cards up one-handedly, eyeing his family and two friends closely, "You guys started some sort of card club while I was gone?"

Colby snorted, "We had to occupy our time with something since we didn't have you bossin' us around... Megan's a lot nicer than you."

"Right..." Don said skeptically. "Granger, she's krav maga'd your ass so many times..."

"...Which is why I never speak badly of those in charge." Colby finished.

David smirked as he heard Don mutter something about why he never got that sort of respect. Then, "Where is Reeves, anyways?"

There was flamenco music on now. Alan pointed toward a far corner of the yard. Don felt his jaw drop and knew it was open for some time._ He just hoped that he wasn't drooling all over his straight flush._

Larry Fleinhardt knew how to tango.

Physics were on his side because he could dip and spin the slightly taller Megan Reeves like she was Ginger Rogers to his Fred Astair.

Yes, Don knew who Fred and Ginger were. Emily made sure of that. He admitted to himself that _made _was too strong a word. Don liked the musical comedies and having a wife was the perfect excuse to watch them. _He even let her think that she sweet talked him into taking swing dancing lessons..._

There was a cat call from Colby and David was laughing at Don's surprise, "Yeah, we keep telling them if there's ever a Dancing _In_ the Stars, she and Fleinhardt would be a shoo in..."

"Yes Don, Larry can dance." Charlie's leg impatiently thumped on the deck, slightly jarring the table and the pile of cards, "Let's just get on with this, okay?"

David smothered his mouth with one hand, carefully studying his cards. Alan exchanged a bemused look with Don and Colby shook his head in fake regret, "Don, does that free Whiz Kid ass-whooping pass still apply?"

Charlie's head shot up in alarm, gave a pleading look to his older brother.

"Colby, I said that you could do whatever it was you needed to keep him in line..."

There was a feral look in Colby's eyes as Charlie gulped nervously, "Hey... Let's not get to hasty fellas..."

Don glanced over at Charlie, "But before I was interrupted, I was going to say, let's at least finish this hand first."

Charlie's eyes had gleamed with the thought of a repreieval, then shot daggers at Don's jest. "And we were excited to have you home why?"

David nudged Charlie's hand, motioning that it was his turn to go. The younger Eppes turned his attention back to his hand and then drew a card, motioning for Don to go.

Don gave his brother a wink, laid out all his cards, _straight flush, no drool..._ "I think this is why, Chuckles."

_Regression toward the mean, my ass..._

"Gin."_  
_


	30. Here is a Red Balloon

A/N - I honestly cannot tell you how this chapter was written or why it took this particular direction. It was going to be this happy little Christmas tale, then I watched Dr. Zhivago and Russian angst prevaded the first half of the story. Please blame Boris Pasternak and Omar Scharif.

* * *

_**"You know, when I was a kid, I always thought I'd grow up to be a hero."**_

_**"Well, it's too late now."**_

_**"What'd you say that for? You didn't have to say something like that."**_

_Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) to the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford). Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969._

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Merrick rolled his thumb across the thin envelope, not needing to open it to know what was inside. 

It was early December and the LA cityscape was full of dark clouds, depressing any Christmas cheer. The Johnson trial had ended the day before and afterwards, Merrick had pulled Don aside and asked for a conference. The AD had an inkling how this was going to go, but wasn't certain till Don handed him the manilla envelope.

"There's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

A brief smile flitted across Don's face, "No, not unless you can guarantee nothing like this will happen again."

"I wish I could, Eppes." Merrick nodded painfully, "Does Emily know?"

"She tried to talk me out of it," He shook his head, as if ridding himself of something he wanted to forget. "But there is no way in hell I'm putting her and our kid through something like this ever again."

"You'll have to lock them in a glass cage if you want to protect them from everything, Don." The Assistant Director spoke from experience, knew _somewhat _of the younger man's motivations. He had a wife, had two daughters and a son. _It was a hard life to ask of anyone..._

"I know." There was a defeat in Don's voice, "It's just..." He got up and started pacing in front of Merrick's desk, stopped and slammed his fist down. "Walt, that son of a bitch had a gun pointed at my wife's head. _At my wife's head_!" A sob caught in his throat, "I almost lost her. I almost lost our child..."

Don heard the wheeled chair coast over the gray berber rug. He watched as Merrick pulled out a half filled bottle of Glenlivet whisky and two short glasses. Two fingers of the amber liquid was mirrored in the tumblers. "It's been a hell of a ride, Eppes."

It was a fine crystal that gave a pealing sort of tinkle, almost laughter, when the rims touched together. Both men expertly threw back the drinks in unison, setting the tumblers down a half beat off each other. "I guess it has..." Don picked his glass up once more, twirled the remaining whisky around the bottom. "You know, four years ago if someone woulda told me that we'd be sharing drinks, I would've laughed him right out of here..."

Merrick sort of grinned and half snorted in agreement, "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna be a dad, Walt," Three drops melded into a larger one at the bottom of the glass, "I'm retiring and protecting my family the best I know how."

"I can respect that, Eppes. But if you ever want back in..."

"I don't think I will," Don shook his head in amusement. "But I know where to find you."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

It was late afternoon and the traffic on the Ten was heavy. Don pulled the Jeep off on a familiar exit. The cemetery was a half mile or so off the main road, tucked back in a grove of pine. It was quiet and there weren't a lot of visitors. A bunch of Japanese lilies lay in the passenger seat from a flower shop not far from the FBI building. The plastic they were wrapped in crinkled in his hands, breaking the hush, the reverence.

He made his way through the grave yard and stopped at a pinkish granite headstone. Don admired the spot that his parents picked out. It was lovely, on a hill, facing towards the east, towards the sunrise, towards Apollo's chariots. "Hey Mom... It's been awhile, hasn't it?" The flowers from the time before were old and dried and Don pulled them out and tore the paper off and put the white and yellow lilies in their stead.

"You'll never believe what I did today. Heck, I hardly believe it..." He sat down, facing the headstone, staring at the slight new growth where _his_ headstone had been. A shiver worked its way down his spine, from the weather or something else, he didn't know."I didn't know what else to do. Risk something like this whole mess again? Emily doesn't deserve this kind of life. Neither do Dad and Charlie."

Don dropped his head on his hands, "The baby's due any time now, Mom. I can't figure out who is more excited, Dad or me..." He paused, "She's getting pretty sick of all the attention though. Dad and Charlie keep hovering... Emmy told me the other night that if they don't cut it out, she'd hightailing it for the hills and not coming back. She's kidding though... You would've loved her."

There was a few weeds and Don yanked them out and tossed them on top of the dead flowers, "Truth is Mom, I almost lost it a few months back. The guy I was testifying against, he got to Emmy. If I hadn't got there when I did..." His voice cracked and there was dirt under his fingernails, Don started picking at it. "Gosh, I wish you were around to talk to, Mom. I want to ask you about your music...Why you left it behind. You loved it..." The wind started picking up, clouds threatened more rain, "But you loved Dad more... I guess that's it, isn't it? You found something that you loved more... I get it."

"You probably want to know why. I've been having nightmares for months. First Em's dead, then her and the baby, and then Dad and Charlie... The job just isn't worth it anymore." _And he didn't love it like he loved them... _There was a heaviness to the air, a storm was ready to break, "You want to know the kicker, though? I'm jealous of Charlie. Why can't it be that easy? Why does Charlie get to have his whole life set up for him in advance and he just gets to waltz through picking roses?"

A single drop of rain traced down the side of his face. Then another hit him on his forehead and dripped down his forehead. They came steadily now, faster. The wind was kicking up and he was soaking wet. "I'll see you later, Mom. Dad's cooking tonight and I have to go save Em before she goes crazy. Can't say that I blame her... Dad's a worse mother hen than you ever were."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Emily laid out on the sofa and carefully began to see how many DVDs she could balance on her stomach before they fell over. Dr. Zhivago wobbled on the Bicycle Thief, Harvey on Stranger than Fiction and the Philadelphia Story on top of How to Steal a Million. She then grew braver and managed to get the first three seasons of Northern Exposure on top of Singin' in the Rain before the door slammed and they toppled like Day Seven in the match between the Israelites and the great walls of Jericho. _And thanks for playing 'What the Pregnant Chick Can Balance on her Belly.' Please tune in next time to see what she can do with Russian novels..._

She heard Don's voice and perked up. He had dropped her by earlier that day, before he ran his errands. Neither Don nor Alan wanted her being alone as her due date drew closer. _Still a couple of weeks away... And the first ones are always late, aren't they?_ She understood, but was feeling rather suffocated as of late. Alan was always checking up on her, getting pillows, making a cup of her favorite tisane. And Charlie was taking advantage of her almost immobility due to swollen ankles to discuss his latest work or discovery. Emily could see it now: "_The autopsy will read 'cause of death: disinterest and extreme boredom due to extreme proximity to mathematics.'"_

"Oh gosh, Don, I'm sorry."

"I'm fine, Charlie."

"_I'm fine, Charlie,_" the mathematician mimicked, annoyance dripping off the words. "I swear between you and Emily if I hear that phrase one more time..."

Emily raised her head to watch as Charlie unconsciously picked a fight with Don, "If you'd leave me alone Math Head, I wouldn't have to keep saying it!" She worked her way to a sitting position and slowly pulled herself up with a surprisingly well-practiced megalomaniacal laugh, "Don, with our combined forces of my wide pharmaceutical knowledge and your crime fighting skills..."

She frowned when she saw her husband standing, dripping wet, in the hall. The overnight duffle was in his right hand and she could see that he was trying not to shiver from the cold. He kicked off his shoes in the entryway and made his way to her, gently kissing her forehead. Emily grabbed Don's proffered hand and he helped her to her feet, "Let's at least wait until after dinner, darling."

The kitchen door swung open, "The children've been bickering all day." Alan placed a large salad on the middle of the dining room table.

Don smirked as Emily hissed, "I'd like to hear him say that two weeks before _his _due date."

Don jogged upstairs to change and Emily excused herself to the bathroom. When they re-joined them at the table an air of civility had returned. She spent most the dinner rather silently and picking at her food. The weight of what he had done earlier kept Don quiet as well. Charlie and Alan hardly noticed as they both chatted on about CalSci and engineering projects. As the dinner drew to a close, Emily raised her eyebrows, telegraphing a silent signal and Don nodded, "I think we're gonna get going here."

"You're not spending the night?"

Don sighed, "We have a house, Dad. We'd like to use it once and a while..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

It was a little after eight and the rain was falling softer now. Don pulled the Jeep out of the drive and got stuck at the lights several blocks down. Emily had her eyes closed and slumped all the way down in the seat.

"So I gave my resignation to Merrick," he waited for her response but instead her fingers clenched the armrests and a slight moan escaped her lips. Worry lined his face, "Are you okay?"

"Honey, as much as I would love to get into a discussion about pension checks and how I married a man apparently old enough to retire, I really, really think we should get to the hospital..."

Don's eyes shot open, "You're water break?"

Emily breathed heavily, "Yeah, back at the house..."

The light had turned green and there was someone behind them laying on the horn. Don slammed on the gas and merged back on the Ten going west toward Santa Monica and the UCLA Medical Center. "You're in labor and you haven't said anything?" Don asked increduously. _Of all the crazy, stupid things... _"How long, Em?" He fumbled with his cell phone clipped to his belt.

"Just before dinner..." She gave him a pleading look, "I love you're family. I really do. But the last thing I wanted was to be given personal escort by Sanford and Son back there..."

"They're not that bad..." _Liar, liar, pants on fire... _Don chuckled, "How long do you think we can get away with this before we let them know?"

Another moan came from the shot gun side of the vehicle. Don finally managed to get his phone off his belt as he felt his heart beat a little faster as an adrenaline rush hit his system. He scrolled through the contact list, hitting send for the one he wanted, "Hey Doc, yeah Don Eppes here. I think Junior's getting here a little early..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Megan Reeves-Fleinhardt slipped her hand in her husband's as they left the elevator and gave a little wave to a familiar group sitting in the obstetrics lounge. Charlie Eppes was too busy pacing to pay her any attention, Alan was nervously clutching a small stuffed moose in his hands and Amita was asleep on one of the sofas, Charlie's jacket balled up as a pillow under her head. Alan's head shot up as the heels of her boots made a clacking sound on the tiled floor. "Hey, you guys."

Alan relaxed when he saw who was there, "Well, you haven't missed anything yet."

Larry's eyes widened and he lapsed into verbal thought, "I find that the birth of the stars and the birth of humans so spectacularly similar. Both are borne out of such pain and fire, the collisions of galaxies and supernovae, egg and sperm..." He paused as Megan raised an eyebrow and they both joined Alan on the couch. "Illuminating the universe with their stellar winds and coronae. The untold measure of a new human life, capable of reaching untold heights. Truly magnificent."

Megan smiled. This was why she loved Larry so much. He was so remarkably intelligent, so incredibly wise and metaphysical in nature. Yet he never was anything more than his humble self. _He really is a beautiful soul..._

A wry chuckle escaped Alan, "Well, I'm sure after seventeen hours of labor, Emily will certainly agree that it's painful."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs... _

"Okay Emily, I'm gonna need you to push on this next contraction. I can see the baby's head..." Doctor Angela Cho was a small woman, thick black hair and gentle almond eyes. She looked at the young woman reassuringly, "You're doing fine."

"Easy for you to say..." She gripped Don's hand in anticipation and glared at him at the same time, "If you open your damn mouth one more time and say one more thing about how many little boxes you had to fill out on the damn paperwork, I'm gonna kick your ass to the moon, Eppes."

Don rubbed her back reassuringly and rolled his eyes at the doctor who was trying, very poorly, to hide her amusement. "Alright Em, it's coming. I want you to give it all you've got."

She nodded silently and Don wiped back the sweaty hair that was clinging to her face. He was no longer surprised at the vise that was her hand and it only grew stronger and more bone-crushing as the contraction hit. Don found he was mentally kicking himself for giving her his right hand. _Here's hoping there's no permanent damage..._

"I'm really hating God right now for thinking this is a good way to get the baby out..." Emily's complaint came through in more of a breathy gasp that Don's ears had to strain to catch.

"There we go, okay, that's it..." Dr. Cho's reassuring words were cut off by a high pitched wail. Emily collapsed against the bed, still firmly holding his hand. Angela carefully stood up, "Would you two like to meet your little boy?"

The doctor guided Don through cutting the umbilical cord, then carefully wrapped the baby in a blanket and set him in Emily's arms. Her voice was heavy, "Hey little one." And Don found it impossible to tear his eyes away. _A son. He had a son..._ Emily had slid over on the bed so he could sit next to her.

He wrapped his right arm around Emily's shoulders and she leaned into him. With his left, he carefully touched the baby's hand which instantly latched on his index finger. Emily laughed and looked at her husband with wonder, "He's fantastic..." Don met her gaze. "Thank you," he whispered. They both soundlessly watched as the baby blinked it's eyes open sleepily. As she traced the thick, black curls Don thought that maybe he should write the hitman a thank you note.

Dr. Cho smiled at the family huddled on the bed. _This is why she went into obstetrics..._ After delivering babies for the better part of the last decade, she had gotten pretty good at reading what her patients were like and how closely the families would bond. _They're going to be just fine._ "What are you going to name him?"

Emily looked at Don and grinned. "Benjamin," she whispered. "Benjamin Alan Eppes."

* * *

A/N - Okay, please don't hate me for having Don resign. I had been going back and forth on this issue for a while and when I look at Don, he's a very in control kind of guy who would do anything to protect his family. Even to the point of being detrimental to himself. Every man has a breaking point, and I think that maybe him almost losing his wife a second time would probably be it. 

-PT


	31. Lightningstroke of Persistant Splendor

A/N - It seems that I found a rather controversial Numb3rs topic... Thanks all for the reviews! I would have sent you all pm's, but the silly pm-review-alert thing still isn't working for me so I suppose you wouldn't get them even if I did try...

Patty - I had to laugh, in the original version Don and Emily stayed in Colorado and he did run for sheriff.

L. Burke and briebydeb - you've made some pretty good guesses as to what comes next...

There is one thing that I would like to clear up. I don't think Don so much 'quit' (because as a lot of you wrote, I don't believe that Don's a quitter) as much as he assigned himself as protective detail to the people he loves the most. And I guess a lot of my inspiration comes down to what Don and Bradford have been discussing on the show, that Don needs to live his life and enjoy it and not just live for his job.

* * *

_**"Weren't you frightened?"**_

_**"Frightened? Child, you're talking to a man who's laughed in the face of death, sneered at doom, chuckled at catastrophe... I was petrified."**_

_Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland) to the Wizard of Oz (Frank Morgan). The Wizard of Oz, 1939._

* * *

Don hardly noticed as they moved Emily, Ben and himself from the delivery room to a private one. Emmy had lowered the bedrails on the left side and he crawled in with them, the new parents watching captivatedly as Benjamin drifted off, Emily not far behind. A nurse had stepped in the room, asked if Don wanted her to take the baby to the nursery so they could rest and he declined. The older woman gave him a knowing smile, turned down the lights and closed the door quietly. 

He gently ran his fingers through Emily's hair, still damp from the shower. Her head laid on his shoulder, the light citrusy aroma blending in with what he could only call a new baby smell. That was something he always thought a myth or fable. _No, it's very real..._ Don studied his son in the dim lighting, he had the Eppes hair, dark and curly with a cow lick, poking out from under the light blue knit cap. Emily claimed that he had Don's nose as well, but he didn't quite see it.

Benjamin started making a mewling sound so Don slid the baby from Emily's arms. He looked at her adoringly, _she deserves a rest..._ He was too nervous yet to walk around the room with Ben, so he took a seat in the recliner near the bed. He looked up at Don, expectantly, "You got your momma's big eyes, you know that Benjamin?" A little fist waved in the air, "Yeah, we're gonna spend some time on the ball field. Just you wait."

There was a slight knock and the door cracked open. Alan and Charlie stuck their heads in, "Hey Don, the doctor..."

Alan squinted in the darkened room. He could make out Emily, fast asleep in bed. The mini-blinds were halfway closed on the windows, letting only a fraction of the late afternoon sunlight in. Don sat in front of the window, his head down, attention drawn to what was in his arms, gently talking to his child.

They knocked a little louder and Don looked up, gave a broad grin, held his finger to his lips and pointed to Emily, "Yeah, yeah... Get in here," he whispered. "I got someone here that I think you just might want to meet."

Charlie set a vase of gerbera daisies on the nightstand and pulled two chairs up next to Don. "It's a boy..." He and Alan huddled close, the open window behind him giving off a soft, early evening light. "What's his name, Donny?"

The figure in the bed shifted, "Hey, where's my baby...?" Emily rolled over and faced the group of _her men_ and smiled at the sight of the three generations together.

"We were just making proper introductions," Don said, motioning for her to speak.

Charlie tore his attention away from the bundle in Don's arms while Alan moved slightly in his chair to keep the view of his grandson and of Emily. "Well, we named him after two very good men. We chose Benjamin... after my grandfather..." she started.

Alan thumbed the small fist. "Son of my right hand," he whispered. _So small, so much like Don when he was born..._

"There's another reason," she continued. "Our initials... We're alphabetical... A is for Alan, B is for Benjamin, C is for Charlie, D is for Don..."

"And E for Emily," Don finished.

"We are not complete without him," Alan said softly.

"Someone was watching to much Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, I think..." Charlie turned back to Don, "His middle name?"

Don cleared his throat, "Alan. His full name's Benjamin Alan."

The mathematician nudged his father's shoulder, "a rock."

Alan voice caught in his throat, "I think that'll work..." _They had given their son his name... _He held out his hands and Don carefully transferred Ben to his father's arms, "Benjamin ben Yitzchak. Barukh atah Ha-shem, Elokaynu, melekh, ha-olam..." _Blessed art thou, Lord, our God, King of the Universe..._

Benjamin ben Yitzchak. _Benjamin son of Isaac... Isaac, Don's Jewish name. _Alan and Margaret had chosen to continue with the custom set forth in the takkanah, _a ruling, _that their sons would would have a name in Hebrew as well as the ones they had chosen, _so they would not forget their heritage..._ They had chosen Isaac because like Abraham, they didn't think they could have children, and yet, then they had Don followed five years later by Charlie.

Don sat back and listened as his father proclaimed Ben's Hebraic name and the berakhah, _a blessing..._ It would be done again, more officially at the _brit milah_, the circumcision, eight days from now. He noticed that his dad didn't stumble through the prayer, _I think someone's been practicing..._

_"Praised are You, O Lord our God, source of all blessings, who has sanctified the well beloved from the womb and has set Your statute in his flesh..."_

Don hadn't grown up Orthodox, more of a mish-mash of Conservative and Reformed, but a friend of his had. Ari only prayed in Hebrew and told him a story of uneducated Jewish man who only knew the Hebrew alphabet, and yet wanted to pray. Since that was all the Hebrew he knew, the alphabet became the man's prayer. One day a rabbi asked him why he recited the alphabet over and over again and the man replied, "The Holy One, Blessed is He, knows what is in my heart. I will give him the letters and He can put the words together."

Don really liked that story and, for a time, he too prayed the alphabet. _Maybe now, he would begin again._

_"Teit, Cheit, Zayin, Vav..."_

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Charlie stood by the window of the nursery, watching as his nephew slept. Across from the window, slumped in a chair was Don, not too far off from the land of nod himself. He had stumbled out a few minutes earlier, half-asleep, claiming Emily and the nurses kicked him out, saying something about mother stuff and things he'd rather not know. Worse than the "_honey, can you buy me tampons?" _variety.

His brother looked exhausted. Don had called them a little before noon earlier that day to let them know Emily was in labor. It didn't take long for him and Alan to rush to the hospital. But by the time they got there, it was still a waiting game, and Charlie couldn't help but be relieved that Don hadn't called them any earlier. _After all, there's only so much one can do meandering around a waiting room._

The windpants made a swishy sound as Don lowered his legs to let Megan take the chair next to him. He let his eyes drift shut again, until Megan waved a cup under his nose, "That better be for me, you tease..." Don opened his eyes and she handed it to him. He cracked the plastic lid off the top, setting free a seductive swirl towards the ceiling.

Charlie traced the steam trail with his eyes, mentally detecting sine waves in motion and wondered if anyone else saw the beauty of that. He glanced at his watch, it was late and maybe he could drag his dad home after he and Larry returned from the cafeteria. _And maybe unicorns are real and Degas is known for something other than his dancers..._

"So Don, I got an interesting phone call from Merrick this morning. Said something about a former SAC of mine not returning to the FBI?"

Charlie jerked his attention from Ben to his brother at Megan's question, which really wasn't a question. Charlie heard the finality there, "You did what?"

Don flinched at Charlie's half shouted question. And Megan looked apologetic when she realized that he hadn't said anything yet, "I didn't know..." she offered lamely.

The young professor didn't recognize that he had slipped into his 'lecture' voice, "You resigned? What, did hell freeze over or pigs start flying?" This was one thing he could honestly say he never saw coming. _Something had happened. He was missing variables..._

"Can't think up anything more original than cliches?" Don said tiredly, "I was going to tell you." He paused, a weary smile gently eased the lines around his face, "I just got a little sidetracked..." He wandered back over to the window, his gaze never wavering from the baby before him.

Charlie started to ask if Don had gone completely daft, when Megan appeared at his side and motioned for him to be quiet. He bit back his protests. _He had been waiting, wanting to work with his brother again..._

Someone in the nursery recognized Don and motioned him to the door on the left. The nurse poked her head out and asked him if he'd like to borrow the rocking chair in there. He nodded his assent and soon disappeared from sight.

"I thought he told you..."

"Well, he didn't," Charlie was feeling rather surley and snappish since Amita had left a few hours back. From the extreme far edge of the window, he caught sight of Don rocking Ben in the annex of the nursery. "I just wanted things to go back to the way they were..."

Megan smiled sympathetically, "You know they wouldn't, Charlie... Even if he had gone back to the Bureau. Don would have been assigned a different team, or I would have..." She sighed, "And I think after what he's been through..." That piqued Charlie's attention, "Don probably wants something more quiet and a lot safer anyways..."

"What do you know, Megan?" _Data, missing information, complete the equation..._

She merely raised her eyebrows, "Sorry, that puppy dog look doesn't work on me anymore, Charlie. And really, it's not my place to say. If Don hasn't mentioned anything, I think it's better to let it be."

"Is that an emotionally healthy action, O Great Forensics Profiler?"

Megan rubbed his back, "Charlie, I think you're jealous..." He started to sputter no, but she interrupted, "Yes, you are. You're not the center of Don's existence or protective energies anymore and it frustrates you. It's understandable, but you got to let Don make the best decisions for him and his family and not make him feel guilty for those."

Charlie sagged against the wall, "I really hate it when you're right."

The woman laughed at that, "You should be use to it by now." She playfully punched him in the shoulder, "Come on, let me buy you a coffee..."

The window ledge was cool to the touch, "No, thanks. I... I think I'd like to stick around here for a while..."

Megan cast another glance at Don, "Okay, but be nice..."

"Oh, I always am."

Charlie couldn't help but frown as Megan walked away laughing.

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

The nursery door opened soundlessly. Charlie slipped through and approached his brother. The back of the rocking chair was towards him, he was glad because he was unsure of what exactly to say. He scratched his head a little and nervously walked in a circle, "So Don, I'm sorry about blowing up at you earlier... That wasn't really fair of me."

"I guess we really haven't talked about what's happened..." A thought wrinkled his brow. _When was the last time they really had a heart to heart? Was it that hiking trip in Colorado?_ "I mean, yeah, we've talked. But you haven't said if there's been something bothering you." Charlie whirled around, "Here's the thing Don, I thought I had you quantified: the time away, Emily, little Ben there... I missed something along the way. I have an incomplete expression..."

The younger man continued in a walking path in the shape of infinity, "Did I ever tell you about the second time I dreamed about Mom? It was after we brought you back from the hospital after that guy attacked you with the morphine." Charlie stopped at the point where the two loops intersected, an epiphany causing the pause, "That's why you left, isn't it?"

He could feel his theorem gain a level of certainty as he gained proofs, "Mom said the two of you were a lot alike, that you weren't as sure of your lives the way Dad and I were... I guess the FBI is like her music, you gave it up for something else..." He felt his frustrations drain away and he rounded the chair to confirm his suspisions. "You told me then that you have a lot of people counting on you, why you didn't show your fear. I want you to know that, whatever you do, I'll support you. I'll be there for you, Emily and Ben here..."

Instead of Don acknowledging his presence, his deductions and conclusions, Don's head had dropped back in the chair, eyes closed and Ben fast asleep in his arms. _Like father, like son..._ Charlie smiled at the picture, grabbed a blanket on another rocker nearby and covered Don and Benjamin carefully, then flicked out the lights.

"I guess we'll have this conversation some other time..."

As his hand griped the door knob he heard the chair creak and a whispered voice,"Thanks, Charlie..."

"Anytime, Don... Anytime..."


	32. How Green Was My Valley

A/N - My email alert-review-pm thing is working! How great is that?

Well, this is it folks. The last chapter. I can't tell you how much fun this has been and I thank you all for reading and reviewing. After finishing my first fanfic, I'm officially hooked, a true review junkie. I've got a fever and the only cure is cowbell, baby... Wait, no... That's not right.

Well, anyways, let's finish the story.

* * *

_**Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there**_

_**With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair**_

_**She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns**_

_**"Come in," she said,**_

_**"I'll give you shelter from the storm..."**_

_Shelter from the Storm, Bob Dylan_

* * *

There's a scene near the end of the movie,_ Field of Dreams_, where Kevin Cosner is talking with the ghost of his father. They're standing on the baseball diamond that Kevin destroyed his corn crop for and his dad asks them if they're in heaven. Kevin responds, '_no, it's Iowa_.' His dad says he thought it was heaven because that's where dreams come true. _And there in that baseball field in Iowa, his dream came true. _They turn around and see Kevin's movie wife and daughter playing on the porch swing and Kevin thinks that yeah, maybe this is heaven after all. 

Paraiso, California wasn't Iowa but Don was certain it was as close to heaven as he had ever been. From his spot on second base, Don could see Emily and his Dad watching him along with Ben, who stood at the chain link fence, waved his hand and shouted, "Bring it home, Dad!" He focused his attention back on the game. The Paraiso Pirates were up to bat and with a teammate on third, he couldn't quite steal another base.

Several months after Ben was born, Don had put out some feelers and found an old sports center for sale in a small town in the San Gabriel Mountains. It wasn't far from Los Angeles and maybe an half an hour's drive from Pasadena. It wasn't much to look at, lots of repairs had to be done: the in-door basketball court had to be refinished, the batting cages weren't really 'cages' anymore and the baseball field was wore out and the stadium lights were mostly burnt out.

It was a labor of love putting humpty dumpty back together again.

Alan worked on designs and Charlie took the summer off from teaching to pitch in. Don and Emily spent the better part of two months commuting between Venice and Paraiso until they found a cedar-shingled house on the side of a hill. It wasn't as large as the Craftsman, but bigger than the cabin or their house by the canal. There was a fireplace and built-in bookcases, four bedrooms and two baths spread generously over two floors. Emily liked the wrap-around front porch while Don favored the oak flooring, but the balcony over-looking a river behind the house was what caught their regard.

Don painted Ben's room blue and put up several long forgotten Dodgers posters of his youth, Steve Sax, Kirk Gibson and Don Drysdale. Emily snuck in later and hung a photo of _her _Don in full swing along with his Rangers card right next to the crib. He blushed and turned his head when they tucked Ben in later that night, but before he could escape, Emily gave him a soft smile, "I want you to know that I am so proud of all of what you've done... And I want Ben to know how cool you are."

"You're just saying that 'cause you're my wife."

Her index finger slid over the frame and then moved to his chest, down his sternum, her breath hot against his neck, "Maybe so, but doesn't that make me uniquely qualified to judge all your qualities and attributes?"

A easy grin worked its way across his face, "I don't think we should be talking about attributes in front of the baby here..."

"Then let us repair to the master suite."

Don followed as Emily pulled him along, "Repair? I didn't think anything was broken..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

It's a practiced art keeping close enough to the base to stay safe, yet still be able to keep a lead to steal the next base in line. Don's left foot kept a close edge to second, the right ready to go for third when he had the chance. John Kinsella was up to bat and he had a wicked arm. Don readied himself to be cleared all the way home. There was the expected crack and the adrenaline surge as the ball flew over the outfielders. He hustled past third as the line coach waved him home.

He jogged through the dugout, exchanging high fives and '_way-to-go's_' with his teammates. Don chewed at a piece of Wrigley's as he glanced up at the scoreboard. _Today has been a very good day... _

Before he could reach in the cooler for a water bottle, a small fist tugged at his pants, "Here, Daddy..." The three year old struggled with her burden. Don took the nalgene and smiled at the long mess of reddish-brown curls, "Thanks, Dinah." He picked her up and she giggled as he slid her up and around his shoulders. "Let's go find your momma..."

They stepped out of the dug-out as Emily raced over, "Dinah, what did I say about going in there while Daddy's game's on?"

There was a smug little grin on the girl's face as she looked down at her mother, "Daddy liked it..."

Emily ran her fingers through her hair, "And you've got Daddy wrapped around your little finger." She rolled her eyes and mock glared at her husband, "Look what you've started... It's a wonder they even listen to me."

Don kept one hand on Dinah's leg and the other he draped around Emily's shoulders as they walked towards the bleachers, "If it makes you feel any better, I listen to you..." She snorted and Don protested, "I do... Hey where are the boys any ways?"

"Leopold and Loeb? They hoodwinked dear old Uncle Charlie to take them and Maggie for ice cream when I wasn't looking." Emily slid an arm around Don's waist, "And Ben and your Dad headed back for the house."

"You know, they just might turn criminal if you keep calling them that..."

She ran her fingers along his side, "Not with you to keep them on the straight and narrow."

Don waved at his brother, motioned at his niece's frozen treat, "I hear you're out to ruin dinner."

It had taken a long time for Charlie and Amita to have Maggie. Don remembered all their doctor's appointments and the uncomfortable times at the Craftsman when Emily was pregnant with Jacob and Noah. There was one evening in particular that stood out in his memory. Emily was five months along at the time and Amita came home from CalSci, took one look at her and locked herself away in the bedroom upstairs. Emily and Ben left with Alan for the store, leaving Don to try to talk with Charlie, working furiously in the garage.

It hadn't ended well.

Don stood by the dryer and watched as his brother broke down in front of him. The mathematician sank on the couch, curls wild, eyes red and cutting words, "You're better at something than me, Don. You can give your wife children. Heck, you don't even have to try and she's pregnant..."

The tension in the air sizzled and cracked, "Charlie... please don't do this..."

"Do what Don?" The mathematician's tone was bitter and sarcastic, hardly sounded like him. "That shouldn't be a problem because apparently I can't."

Don protested, said he was wrong. Charlie asked him to leave, to take his pregnant wife and two year old and just leave. Don quietly nodded and left, leaving Charlie to his chalkboards and grief. It was several weeks later before there was a shaky truce, and life even broached a sense of normalcy by the twins arrival. Though there was a sense of melancholy that was apparent yet was left unacknowledged.

It was a year and a half before Amita's pregnancy test finally read positive.

Don shrugged off the unpleasant memories as Charlie looked sheepish and Maggie dragged her tongue through the vanilla soft serve, "Hey, if you're game hadn't gone into extra innings..."

Don chuckled, "You mean since Amita's pregnant and off her feet at the house, this one..." He motioned to the five year old, "can get away with whatever she likes..."

He was almost certain that Charlie mumbled 'something like that...'

"Oh, look at you two..." Emily groaned, "Charlie, you just had to let them get chocolate." She knelt on the ground, facing the two seven year olds, dug through her large handbag for some wet wipes.

They weren't identical. Noah was the taller of the two with deep set green eyes and thick black hair. Jacob was a tad shorter, slightly more husky with brown eyes and sandy coloured curls. Though they did have matching chocolate stains on their mouths and matching paths dribbled down the front of their shirts. "What am I going to do with you both?" The boys exchanged glances and Emily looked at them, then Charlie and then at Don. "Yuppers, double the trouble..."

There was a tinge of amusement in Don's voice as he smiled, eyes crinkled in a most flirtacious way, "And double your fun..."

She snorted, "Is that what they call it now?" Shoving the last of the wet ones into Don's pocket, Emily grabbed the two boys by the hand and marched them toward their SUV, "I think we better get home before poor Amita gets all lonely by herself..." Holding the door open as the boys clamored into the vehicle she sighed, "And before I go crazy..."

_Numb3rs...Numb3rs...Numb3rs..._

Don studied the outline of the house in the steadily fading August light, Juliet's firey-footed steeds nearing Phoebus' lodging. There was some split wood around the side of the shed. He hauled a couple of bundles to the fire pit around the back of the house. Fireflies skated softly through the night air, Maggie and Dinah chased after them, failing to catch any yet laughing just the same. Amita lounged in a reclining beach chair, looking like some fairy queen from Arabian Nights, Charlie happily waiting on her, hand and foot.

There was a whoop that broke the stillness as Ben raced with his dog, Ranger, followed closely by his two younger brothers. Out of all his children, Ben most closely resembled him. There was the strong nose, blackish curls and large brown eyes. At ten, he was a handful, at best he lived up to his name. _Son of my right hand..._ Benjamin was serious in regard to his responsibilities toward his younger siblings. Don, ever cautious, ever watching, keeping him from growing up too quickly, drawing on his own experience, letting Ben be himself, wanting him to shine.

All three of his sons went out for baseball. _Benjamin, Jacob and Noah._ Don was proud and told Emily that he only needed six more boys and they'd have a team. _Or, with him, a minyan_... Emily laughed at that and told him she was only joking all those years ago when she said they'd have a dozen.

He dropped the wood in a pile on the ground, carefully adding a couple of sticks to the already glowing flames. Through the shimmer of heat, Don watched as his father offered a hand to Emily as she stepped off the screened in porch, arms full of Hershey bars and marshmallows, "Who want's s'mores?"

Ben nearly collided with her, stopping just before he did. Don detected a glimmer of something in his young doppledanger's eyes, "But how can we have smore when we haven't had any yet?"

Laughter rippled through the yard, "You're father's completely corrupted you, son..." Emily tossed him a bag of the jumbo marshmallows and Ben held it up high like he was Rafiki on Pride Rock. The boys tore it open and Alan helped them slide them on their sticks without an emergency room worthy visit. Jacob and Noah burned theirs almost immediately, _like they always did._ Alan was ready for them with some that weren't.

Emily dropped the chocolate bars on the picnic table and sat down next to Don. Dinah flew by and unexpectedly landed on his lap, "Here's my girls..." They settled against an old log that Don had yet to gather the heart to burn. His attention wandered to his younger brother helping Maggie turn her marshmallow in the fire, Amita looking fondly on the both of them.

Dinah giggled at the sparks tossed through the air as Noah and Jacob battled each other with their marshmallow sticks, the ends radiating a red glow from sitting in the fire for too long. Ben finished his smore and disappeared to the house, only to come back a few minutes later, toting baseball gloves and a ball.

Don's mind wandered back to _Field of Dreams._ The Voice had told Kevin Cosner to _build it and he will come_. At that moment, Don realized that in his life, the "_he"_ wasn't Shoeless Joe or some other great passed on ball player. _It was himself..._ There was a part of him, all his life, that was seeking out who he was, who he was suppose to be. _Ball player? FBI agent? Joel Cohen? Don Eppes? _Don supposed now that maybe all that really didn't matter, because now he found what truly did. _If you build it, he will come..._

Ben threw Don his glove, "Hey Dad, wanna have a catch?"

_Will the real Don Eppes please step down? _Maybe it took a couple of near death experiences to wake him up to what really mattered. Maybe it took a stripping away of all his hiding places. And in that purging, finding himself, finding love and all that truly mattered. Don found that in the end, it didn't matter if he wore kevlar or wielded a baseball bat to find his identity. It didn't matter if his brother was a genius or that his Dad nagged him for over a decade to have the grandchildren he always wanted. All that counted was that he had found his place, made his indelible mark on the world.

Emily pulled Dinah off his lap, nudged him forward. Don pulled the glove on and followed his son down the hill.

"Yeah, Ben... I'd like that."

_It was there, in a small mountain valley, that Don Eppes finally found his legacy..._


End file.
